


Last Resorts of Good Men

by lrceleste



Series: A Magister's Birthright [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Tevinter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrceleste/pseuds/lrceleste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sera wasn’t happy, not in the slightest.  She’d made her way below deck, searching for inquisition members, someone who had time to hold a conversation. Inky was always chatting with somebody else, Bull had his chargers, Varric had plenty of other friends in Kirkwall. Cole would always talk, but Andraste’s tits she wasn’t that desperate. Sometimes she preferred the old days. Not the crazy Coryphe-shit, just them all being together.<br/>And now she was heading for Tevinter. Tevinter. Probably the last place in Thedas she wanted to be.</p><p>Follow up to A Magister's Birthright. Shifting point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the sequel I spoke of, the follow up to [A Magister's Birthright](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3429185/chapters/7514432).
> 
> I'll be adding extra tags as the story progresses, and updates will hopefully be every Saturday, life permitting.
> 
> And finally, each chapter will be from a different point of view, some of them will appear more frequently. I'll pop whoever's narrating at the top of the Chapter to avoid confusion... Unless I don't want you to know.

**Dorian**

Dorian giggled as they fell into the room. _Giggled._ Adaar too laughed at the near scream that slipped from the Altus’ lips when they began to topple, before the qunari managed to right them. Perhaps carrying him bridal style to their room was not the best idea they had ever conjured, but it had been worth it, if only for the look on the bartenders face as a Qunari tossed his male Tevinter paramour once in the air before planting a kiss on his cheek. That would teach the racist bastard.

He fell to the bed with little ceremony and a sharp laugh, which only turned into a full blown fit of laughter as Kadan slowly crawled his way up the mages body, grin splitting his lips. This was an all too regular occurrence, one he didn’t imagine he would tire of, his lover planting kisses against exposed skin, humming in contentment.

“How are you to have me?” Dorian asked, aware that the grin was reflected, it was awful how much the corners of his eyes had begun to crease in the last year alone.

“With a side of spiced rice and some Sun Blonde. Like a proper Tevinter should be had.”

“What a shame I’m not proper.” He sighed jokingly, coaxing Adaar’s lips towards his own, capturing him in a kiss.

The inquisitor sighed as he pulled away. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I thought we promised no talk of tomorrow?” He questioned, fingers running idly through ginger locks. “Else I’ll make another excuse.”

“Is that so bad? Another day together?”

“But then it’ll be another day after that, and then a hundred more, and then a thousand, and before we know it we’ll be old men and I’ll never have set foot in Tevinter again. As much as it pains me, I have to leave.”

“You’ll miss me too?”

“Immeasurably.”

Kadan smirked, lips trailing over Dorian’s jaws, “Then I suppose we should get on with this before we’re old men.”

Dorian chuckled in return, drawing the qunari’s lips to his own, kissing him slowly, passionately, lips moist and thick, and sweet with honeyed wine. “Oh amatus, could I adore you more..? Probably not.”

“I love you Dorian.”

“And I love you.”

-

The docks of Jader were not the most romantic, but he had to admit, they were vastly preferred to Denerim. Not only could one stand on the streets of Jader without fear that they’d catch something from the very ground they stood upon, it also meant as little time as physically possible would be spent on the Waking Sea, and Dorian could not argue with that in any manner.

It would be a long journey on the whole, there was no doubting it, but it would be far more comfortable than his journey south, for a start he had a large sack of coin, his own coin, earned during his time aiding the inquisition. And amongst other factors he now had company. How pleasant that company would be was yet to be discovered.

“The ship will be leaving shortly. You should not delay.” Alexius announced as he wandered towards the very vessel he spoke of. In all honesty Dorian would have preferred to leave his mentor in Skyhold, but Adaar had argued some valid points for his release, above all the fact that Alexius, even after the years, still held his seat in the Magisterium, and some political standing, not to mention he still held some valuable information on the Venatori, should it be required.

Dorian’s other companion however…

The Altus looked to the young mage, weighed down with bags, barely able to carry his staff with the amount of luggage he had piled in his arms. The boy had spent the vast majority of his life in a circle, and that wasn’t much of a life, the boy had only become of age less than a year before and Dorian could barely imagine the benefits of such a mage accompanying them. But Kadan had given those puppy dog eyes and Dorian had thrown his hands up, agreeing to take the child along with him.

“How are you fairing Trevelyan?” Kadan asked the boy and he almost dropped his bags he jumped so high from the voice.

“Fine Messere. I’ll be glad to get on the sea though, get going. I’d never been outside of Ostwick two year ago, now I’ll be able to add Nevarra and Tevinter to the list of places I’ve been. I can’t believe it though. I’m going to a land ruled by mages!”

Dorian sighed again, “Max, Tevinter is not _ruled_ by mages-…”

“I know, sorry Messere. It’s ruled by the Magisterium, who are all mages. I’ve been reading those books you gave me.”

“Well… Good.” He stated hesitantly as he watched the boy stumble away, grin barely visible over his stack of bags.

“He’ll do fine.” Adaar said, though Dorian could hear the hesitancy creeping into the qunari’s voice. “As for you…”

“Don’t worry, I know. No picking fights with powerful Magisters, regular correspondence and curfew is an hour after nightfall.” He added with a grin.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know, I’d miss me too.” He joked, before chuckling at the straight line of Adaar’s lips. The laugh made the qunari soften, pulling him into strong arms, gripping him tightly. “It’ll be awfully lonely without you too.”

“You have company.” He stated, but the chin that rested atop the necromancers head, the slight squeeze of the arms that wrapped around him suggested Kadan knew precisely what Dorian meant.

The moment was interrupted, Max’s voice shouting from down the dock, “Messere Pavus, the ships prepared to leave, we’re waiting on you.”

“Of course they are.” He muttered.

“Remember, take the tonic as soon as you leave the dock, it should make the sickness more bearable.” Kadan reminded gently.

“I shall.” He stated, sifting the bottle from his pack, gripping it tightly in his hands. “Kaffas, I’m dreadful with good byes.”

“Nehraa her-issala panahedan.” Dorian’s hand moved to squeeze the dragon tooth hidden beneath his robes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Nehraa her-issala panahedan.”

“Your accents improving.”

“A shame your Tevene is still atrocious, you could visit one day.”

“I will, or you will, a small grain of time, that’s all it is.” He promised as his fingers cupped Dorian’s cheek. “Now quickly, or they’ll leave without you. You don’t want Maxwell Trevelyan to be hailed as the saviour of Tevinter, do you?”

Dorian smiled again pulling away from the hand on his cheek as he turned away from the all too familiar face. His hand still gripped the necklace. He could remember the utterly cliché promise that had gone with the matching pair, no matter how far apart they were they’d always be together. He only hoped that in some capacity it was the truth.

As he stepped aboard the ship the crew mate tasked with ushering him on and hurrying him glared daggers into his very soul. Still being of Tevinter gained him no approval, thankfully the inquisition had allowed him some freedom in the south, but now he was alone again, with a Magister and a Free marcher, heading North.

As he settled against the railings of the ship, looking out at Adaar, the qunari giving a slight comforting smile, Alexius approached him.

“You don’t plan on being a romance novel cliché do you?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Alexius smiled, “I know you Dorian, always one for theatrics. If you plan on changing your mind and running into his arms I suggest you do it before they set sail, the southern waters are awfully cold, and the crew won’t think of you fondly if they must stop to retrieve a drowning Tevinter.”

“I shan’t.” He stated plainly, even as his heart pushed against the boundaries of his chest, begging him to return to his amatus. Instead he merely gave a wave, receiving a sad one in return as the ship pulled away from the docks. No matter how far…

Trevelyan joining him on his other side, laying a comforting hand on his arm, and it was only then that Dorian stopped waving. Even though he could still see Kadan at the docks he pulled his eyes away.

“I wondered Alexius, why exactly did you agree to join me? Surely freedom isn’t worth venturing to a country that will likely hate you and try to strip you of all of your standing. You would have been better off remaining with the mages in Skyhold.”

“Felix would have joined you?” Dorian hesitated for a moment, realising that the statement was in fact a question. They had only spoken of Felix once since his passing, briefly on the Funalis a little over a year after. Dorian had been away from Skyhold on the first All Soul’s day as the south called it, Corypheus still an ongoing threat. But on the second he had finally been able to lay aside time for the proper ritual, for the proper good bye.

“Yes, undoubtedly. I would have told him it was a dangerous and he was a fool for joining me, and then he would have done so anyway.” Alexius smiled, a soft thing that barely played at his lips, and Dorian knew he was recalling some long memory that would not soon be lost.

“And there would have been a time when you wouldn’t have questioned _my_ joining you. That’s why I’m here.”

“To restore your respect?”

“To restore the Imperium.” He answered.

“Hope we succeed then.” Dorian laughed.

“That’s a lot of hope you’re asking for.” Maxwell muttered, but Dorian ignored it for the moment, instead twisting the cork from the small flask he still clutched tightly in his hands, downing the contents.

This was certainly going to be a long journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nehraa her-issala panahedan - Goodbye for now (Literally take refuge in this safety for a small grain of time)


	2. Friends in Low Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**Three Years Later** _
> 
> I'm doing a DA2, but Hark! What is this?! Yeah, it's a semi-new character...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make a spontaneous midweek update, because I couldn't wait to post this chapter. Scheduling will return to usual after this.

“Thief!” A guard cried at the top of their lungs. “Savage thief!”

The Vashoth turned only for a moment, long enough to laugh as they stuck their middle finger up at the guard and cried, “Who are you calling savage you armoured prick?!”

Even after so many years the city wasn’t exactly friendly for qunari, regardless of their views towards the Qun, and as far as she was concerned they could shove the entire city up their arse. The entire Free Marches. That was, every qunari had it rough except the golden boy of the minute, or the decade, or however long this whole ‘herald of Andraste’ shit was supposed to last.

She ran from the streets of Hightown into the new streets of Lowtown, even with the improvement it was still a shit hole. Not many guards patrolled here, too many crimes for them to keep track of, most of them thought it was better off keeping the rich people wealthy, instead of the poor people safe. What did it matter anyway, they all knew that no matter what the lower forces believed, Lowtown had the Guard-Captain on their side, and now the inquisition too.

So lost in thought she didn’t realise when a guard patrol finally stepped out from one of the side streets. Unfortunately that one persistent bastard was still chasing her down, hollering about the goods she’d stolen. The whole patrol turned, drawing their weapons as she came to halt, weighing up the options she had if the plan didn’t pull through. She was surrounded, and so they began to charge. Taking a deep breath she held onto the bag of stolen goods, hoping, praying for the stray arrow.

They all stopped suddenly, the head of the patrol almost taking the arrow to the shoulder. She looked quickly for the source of the rogue arrow, and found perched atop a roof, a small elf, choppy blonde hair, and mismatched clothing, giggling furiously. Without a second more hesitation the Vashoth propelled herself towards the building. Aware that she towered at least a foot over the guards, she leapt for the low roof over the buildings door, scaling the home as the guards screamed for her to return.

When she reached the top the elf gripped her arm, aiding in pulling her up, even though her strength would barely be able to shift one of her legs. It was well timed, an arrow flying past her horn, far too close for comfort. The guards had finally gotten their act together, unfortunate for them.

“Shite!” The elf cried, dodging another arrow. “At least they’re a crap shot!”

With her taunts she stuck out her tongue, readying her own bow. “They’re not worth it, just get away. Fuck ’em.”

“Ugh, no thanks!” The colourful elf laughed letting an arrow fly just to scare the patrol, before turning and sliding down the opposite side of the roof onto a balcony, safe from their fire, the qunari following quickly. “First up, you want more help form my way, you better tell me what you got stashed in the bag. I don’t help just anyone. Even if they are…”

“Are what?! You got a problem with me being qunari?”

“No, not a problem, I’ve got qunari friends an’ all. You’re just… you’re big, yeah, and a woman, and… Well… Wow. Now what’s in the bag?” She brushed off the comment, storing it for later. What could she say, the elf was cute.

“Don’t expect any of it, or I dunno, do, maybe... Nobles stole from the alienage, I’m giving it back. But I haven’t seen you with the elves.”

“That’s because I’m not!” She argued. “They’re all too elfy, can’t stand that shite. Could ask why you ain’t with the qunari outside of town?”

“To qunari-y for my liking. Can’t stand that shite.” She reflected.

The elf laughed. “You’re not that bad. I’m Sera. And you could be a friend.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah, kind of. And a friend of mine is a friend of Red Jenny, pissing on nobles and helping the little people. Sound like you?”

“Definitely. Most around here call me savage, I prefer Asala though.”

“Sounds good to me. See you later then, yeah?” The elf asked as she leapt from balcony onto a stall below, before finally rolling to the ground, and sprinting away, bow slung over her shoulder.

“Probably.” Asala answered, in all honesty.

She didn’t trust the streets, and instead climbed up to the roof, balancing as she climbed from one to another, headed towards the alienage. Merrill would be happy to see the few belongings and gold returned to the elven inhabitants. She was a sweet woman, cute, and the valaslin, as she’d been taught it was called, always made her wonder, was there anything further down?

What could she say? Tiny women with pointy ears, they did something. Now, tiny women with pointy ears that were interested in qunari? Sign her the fuck up!

As she dropped onto a doorway, before almost falling to the ground, crouching to make it look as purposeful as she could muster, elves scattered, a few shrieking in terror. It wasn’t everyday qunari’s fell from the sky, and even after so long they were wary.

“Are you insane?” A familiar voice asked in horror, and she sighed, climbing to her feet.

The ‘Herald of Andraste’ stood over her, half a foot taller than her, arms folded over his chest. He would have been shorter if it hadn’t been for the ritual, she would bet actual coin on it. Beside him stood the blood mage, the cute one, and beside her, the- the spirit… thing… Cole. He’d always had a knack for attracting the weird ones. “Calm your shit Kadan. You take this big brother crap far too seriously.”

“I have to; otherwise you’re going to end up killing yourself.”

“Hey, you’ve been gone like five years. I think I can handle myself just fine.”

“You decided to run away from home and move into the most qunari hating city outside of the Imperium. Nice move. Way to handle yourself.”

“I’m doing fine. In fact, I just reclaimed the elves property.”

“You did?” Merrill asked excitedly. “Thank you ever so much! They’ll be grateful to have it returned.”

“Everything should be in order. If there’s anything missing let me know.” She said with a wink.

The elf blushed, her pale skin turning pink. “I shall, thank you.”

When she took the pack, hurrying towards a small family to return their goods Asala risked a look at her brother. It was as she had expected, he was stood in the same position, frowning deeply. “How many people do I have to bribe to get you off the wanted list?”

“I’m offended that you think I stole it.” His eyebrows somehow managed to lower. “Fine, yeah, probably just chat with Aveline.”

“It shows how much time you’ve spent with the guards that your pals with the Guard-Captain.”

“Listen, Kadan, or is it Adaar now?”

“Call me what you like.”

“Listen, nug-shit…” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Listen you’re no cleric, what with the ritual and-”

“Please don’t bring that up. Not in public.”

“What?” She paused for a moment, before it clicked. “They don’t know, do they?”

“Why should they?”

“Ugh, let me think. Maybe because you blood magicked up your man-bits.” He dove forward palm of his hand covering her mouth, pressing her into the corner of the alienage, but she’d already finished by the time he made his move. She simply wandered backwards as he pushed and took it, rolling her eyes as his darted around.

“It might be alright for you, jumping over the rooves and stealing from nobles, but I’m still a public figure, everything I do is watched. You can’t just go around shouting about blood magic.” He hissed. “I did this so nobody would have to know, I’m not going to scream it from the roof top.”

Prying away his fingers she asked, “Does that fiery little human of yours know? I heard he’s a Vint, they’re cool with all of that, right?”

“First of all, my ‘fiery little human’ has a name and you know it. Secondly, yes, he’s aware. Finally, he’s not a blood mage, he hates it.”

“Must have been fucking ecstatic when you told him.”

“Bunch of disappointment and shouting, sorted it out quickly. At least he didn’t try and put a knife in my skull.”

“Yeah, there is that. Gotta admit though, you could have been less of a tit when you told her about it… Oh shit!” She exclaimed, laughing loudly. “Less of a tit, get it?! Because- because you got rid of yours, that’s why she tried to-… You’re really no fun anymore.”

“I had to defeat an ancient darkspawn Magister, and save Thedas, that shit changes you.”

“Yeah _right_ , bet it’s really because you’ve been in a long distance relationship with your left hand for three years.”

“You are unbelievable.” He groaned punching her arm lightly, but she could see the slight smile.

“You never told me, why are you in Kirkwall.”

“I did tell you. Secret Inquisition business.” He answered, adjusting the cuffs on his wrists. Asala simply glared, and it was more than enough to elicit further response. “Visiting Varric, seeing the sights.”

“Being a fan boy more like. Bet you almost pissed when you met Hawke.”

Kadan sighed, his hands dropping from his wrists. “He… He was a good guy. There aren’t many of them.”

She’d read the new book, _The Tale of The Herald_ of course she knew what had happened, but it didn’t mean she really knew, didn’t mean she read Adaar in that book and pictured her brother. Instead all she could do was deflect. “When you leaving then?”

“Soon, unless something comes up.”

“Comes up, yeah? Unlike your-… You know forget it, my talent is wasted on you.” As she watched him, the way his eyes scanned over the elves milling around, hand running idly through his hair, she knew there was something he was keeping to himself. He had managed to pick up human ways as well as she had, blending in as much as someone with horns and a couple feet extra could. If there was a way out of Kirkwall, a way into the Inquisition, she was jumping at it. As far away from the Valo-Kas and Tama as Thedas would allow. “Is something going to come up?”

“You _did not_ hear this from me.” He muttered leaning against the wall, voice dipping.

“Now this is the Kadan I know. None of that Inquisitor nonsense.”

“There’s a ship heading out of port in two days’ time. The Captain is a friend of a good friend of mine. It’s heading to Tevinter with the intent of picking up a special cargo. I might be getting on that ship.”

“Special cargo, in the Imperium? You’re shitting me right, you _know_ what that’s going to fucking be, they’re picking up-… Wait, ‘picking up’? Why are you taking slaves _from_ the Imperium?”

“Because we’re the good guys.” He stated as if the answer were as clear as day and Maker help them all if this man had been _chosen._ At least they weren’t all dead, she supposed that was something.

“You’re rescuing them?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, the crews already set, but I’m hoping if I flash the Herald of Andraste card, get Varric to sweet talk Isabela a bit, we can get a few of our own on board.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be the head of some religious organisation or something?” She asked sarcastically. “Surely you can’t just up and leave?”

“Yes I am, and I left it in the very capable hands of Seeker Cassandra Pent-” He was cut silent by Asala’s sharp laugh.

“And what I’ve heard of Cassandra, she will murder you. She will find a way from Skyhold to ‘Vinter so she can murder you.”

“I’m aware, but, and this you _really_ didn’t hear from me. There’s been unrest in Tevinter. Nobody outside the Imperium knows, all trade and travel in and out have been limited, they’re enforcing extra checks.”

“So how do you know?”

“Dorian, he was sending letters, they explained what was going on. Eight months ago they stopped. I’ve been waiting for a way into the Imperium. I just need to hear someone say he’s alive.”

“Wait, so let me get this right? You, the Herald of Andraste, a Tal-Vashoth who sunk a _fucking dreadnaught,_ wants to take a ship through the Northern Passage. A ship captained by a pirate, a really good-looking pirate, but a _pirate._ That if I remember correctly stole the fucking tome of Koslun.Assuming you make it through the Northern Passage, it’s all so that you, I repeat, a Tal-Vashoth, a Qunari, can go to the _Tevinter Imperium_ , where travel to and from is currently under surveillance, to look for your male lover. Oh, and while you’re at it might as well smuggle out some slaves. Are you seeing the link here Kadan? _These are all terrible ideas_!”

“You were just telling me I’m no fun.”

“Doesn’t mean go and get yourself killed you fucking moron.” She hissed swatting him with the back of her hand. “Some people might miss you.”

“ _Might?”_

“Fine, _I’d_ miss you. I bet that human of yours would lose a few nights over it… Just don’t do anything stupid, we’ve already nearly lost you to one magister.”

“I’ll try my best.” He promised, straightening up. “Now, I have inquisition matters to attend to, and a Guard-Captain to speak with I believe. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” She nodded.

If there was one thing she knew for certain, this trip was going to be hell. Kadan (supposedly) had the brains, Kost had the brawn, and she, the final child, was given what was left. Nobody could have imagined what would be left when your parents are a powerful saarebas and an Arvaarad, two people who explicitly should not mate. Well, nobody could have guessed, except perhaps her.

They say that mages dreamed, that qunaris didn’t, well, perhaps she was best described as a Tal-Vashoth mage. The only difference, she didn’t hurl fire balls, didn’t summon lightning, mostly from choice. She saw things sometimes, things that had a surprising likelihood of happening. She knew things others couldn’t.

And she knew she had to be on that ship.


	3. Well, Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric reminisces before negotiations are underway.
> 
> I suppose all of the character tags make sense now then...

** Varric **

To say they’d almost tried to rebuild half of Kirkwall in the years since the inquisition had intervened, the Hanged Man was just as much of a shit hole as ever. In all honesty was it worse? Had they by some miracle managed to make the run down inn even more of a steaming heap of-?

“You alright in there?” Bull asked, softly drawing the dwarf from his mind. In all honesty he was thankful for it, he’d been in there far too long, and there were far too many cobwebs in this old place that he still hadn’t had a chance to brush away. It wasn’t the same. It was the same layout, the same location, he imagined some of the walls were still the same too. But it wasn’t. His table was gone, the one they all used to play Wicked Grace around.

Merrill was far too innocent for the game, which meant that when she finally learnt how to play nobody expected her brilliant poker faces. Isabela, well, of course she was a natural. Aveline and then Donnic too, a few spats had been had because of the game, but only because they were both dreadful, either way they came back every week. Carver would always insist he was going to spectate, he couldn’t face loosing again, but Rivaini would draw him in again every blighted time. Anders and Fenris would bicker so much neither of them had a chance of taking home any of their coin. But in the beginning it was never their coin, they didn’t have a copper to their name. After a while they’d managed to loot enough bodies to make a living, but before then, it was always Hawke’s coin.

Hawke had his days; he could walk home pockets full of cash, or as poor as the day his ship had arrived in the Gallows. Either way he would laugh. As the time drew on, he would placate the arguments, a gentle hand on Anders’. Most nights Broody and Isabela would sneak away together, even though their sneaking was done very obviously. Aveline and Donnic turned in early, and some nights it was a shame Rivaini wasn’t there to make a lewd comment about how much sleep they’d be missing anyway. When he wasn’t with the wardens it would be Carver and Merrill next, sometimes together, but Varric could never discern what that meant. Then Hawke and Blondie would leave. Chuckles always stayed until Anders was nearly falling asleep against his shoulder.

Perhaps, the dwarf reasoned to himself as he gazed around the inn, it wasn’t the furniture that had changed.

“Hello?” Bull asked again.

“I’m doing fine Tiny, just thinking back. A lot of stories were written here, a couple were made.”

“You ever think about coming back here, for good?” Krem asked. In truth he was back in Kirkwall, had been for nearly four years, but he still hadn’t found a place of his own, too much moving around, too many ‘long weekends’ in Skyhold.

Varric smiled, knowing that the Charger’s intent was honest, “Want rid of me?”

“Couldn’t get rid of you even if we tried.” Bull laughed taking a swig straight from the bottle of wine that could rival Skyhold’s swill.

The elf at the end of the table shifted slightly, taking a draw from his own bottle. A slight smile twitched at his lips, “I’d watch him, that’s what we believed. Now he’s part of a chantry organisation.”

“Don’t give me that broody. I’m here all the time!” He joked, his own drink in hand. This was how most nights panned out. They’d end up in the Hanged Man, the group varied from night to night, but Varric was nearly always in attendance, he was the one constant. No-one could throw together a greater band of misfits than Hawke and Adaar it seemed, with Bull’s lot to boost, it was quite the concoction. No-one would quite have believed him had he written it, such an unlikely bunch that they were.

“Where is this ‘herald’ of yours?” Isabela asked, her eyes had been wandering over Bull and his wandering in turn in a way that made everyone else’s roll. “I’ve yet to meet him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be dropping by sooner or later.” Varric answered only seconds before the door creaked open, revealing the devil as if he’d been summoned.

“Sorry I’m late.” He announced to the group as he settled beside Krem, gesturing to the bar tender for a drink to be brought over. “Unexpected diversion.”

“I was just wondering when I was going to have the pleasure of meeting you.” Isabela announced, leaning across the table.

“He’s not interested.” Varric stated bluntly, a small chuckle slipping into his words.

“So quick to judge!”

“That’s because I know you Rivaini, I don’t have to judge.”

She laughed quietly, “That aside, I have been dying to meet this fabled Herald of Andraste, no offense, but I was expecting something a little showier.”

“None taken, so was I.” He laughed.

“You know I worked for you for some time, not once did I actually see you. I assumed you and your glowing hand were another of Varric’s tall tales. But, your Ambassador informed me you were on some important mission in Val Royeaux. Something about an amulet and the Winter Palace.”

“Yeah, _real_ important.” Bull muttered with a smirk, causing a ruddy blush on Adaar’s cheeks, and Varric knew he’d have to ask what the story behind that was.

“I assume then, that you must be Captain Isabela? If so the pleasure is mine.” He asked, receiving a groan from the dwarf and a quiet snicker from Fenris.

“Be quiet you two! I like this one, we can keep him. _He_ has some manners. But, why exactly are you looking for me, I’m not in trouble am I?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve angered a qunari.” Fenris commented, receiving a sharp laugh from Varric.

“No.” Adaar laughed, giving a quiet thanks to the maid as he received his drink. “Actually I’m here to ask about that ship of yours.”

“My ship? And why exactly would the Inquisition be interested in her?”

“Not the inquisition, just me. I hear you’re setting sail soon.” His voice dipped as Varric felt an almost uneasy tension sit in the pit of his stomach. He knew where this was going, he was the one who’d mentioned the voyage to Tal, just as a passing comment, as a secret that shouldn’t be shared. He should have known that mentioning Tevinter would only bring about terrible decisions.

He’d done a lot of crazy shit in his life time, wasn’t he supposed to settle down at some point?

“You understand the nature of this trip?” Fenris asked with some caution. It was of course his voyage more than anyone’s; Isabela was merely a go-between, a means of safer passage. Fenris was, in a sense, the mastermind behind the operation.

“I understand completely. Just one question, which city are you planning on docking in?”

Isabela was hesitant to answer, but finally she relaxed, “Qarinus. It’s the closest we can get.”

Varric could practically see the light in Adaar’s eyes come to life. That was precisely the answer he’d been hoping for. “I want in.”

“What can you offer?” Rivaini asked, leaning back with her coy smile, but Varric could tell the talk had turned to business; they couldn’t seriously be considering this. Taking the Herald of Andraste into Tevinter?

“You realise this is mad?” He finally voiced.

“I could offer contacts on the inside.” He stated as if Varric hadn’t spoken.

“What exactly is the nature of your trip?” Bull asked, curiosity piqued.

Isabela paused for a moment, before scouting the room, “Tevinter slave run. Almost everything’s set up, should be in and out in no time.”

The Iron Bull’s eye landed on Fenris for a moment, gliding over the elf. “Exporting I’m assuming?”

“You think I’d be putting slaves _in_ the Imperium?” The elf near snarled.

“No. I just needed to hear it.”

Bull and Krem shared only a quick glance before the second in command said, “He can offer crew, the Chargers can pull their weight, and we know how to fight some ‘Vints if it gets nasty… And it might be useful to have a human ‘Vint amongst you. Even a Soporati one.”

“What kind of contacts are you offering?” Isabela finally questioned.

“They’ll be worth your time.” Adaar stated, and Varric was glad the qunari could keep a straight face, and had the sense to. Stating exactly who his contacts were would have been a sure fire way to get him thrown head first off the guest list. As it was the elf pondered the statement for a moment.

“I imagine they will.”

“I suppose it’s settled then. Welcome to the crew boys.” Isabela announced with a wicked grin.

She held up her glass, joined quickly by several others and a few bottles, when Varric was the only one not reaching into the centre of the table he groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. When Adaar’s letter had detailed the fact that a group would be arriving in Kirkwall Varric had been eager for them all to arrive. A quick visit to Kirkwall he’d said, help with rebuilding efforts, meet the gang. ‘Storm the Imperium’ had never been on the itinerary.

As he looked over those sat at the table he stood on his seat to reach the centre of the long table, adding his mug to the centre.

“Varric?”

“Can’t leave you lot alone for five minutes.”

“And me too yeah?” Sera asked, surprising everyone in attendance with her sudden appearance.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going sweetie?” Isabela asked.

“Not a clue.” Sera answered with a grin, stealing Adaar’s drink from his fingers. “But if all you lot are off, I’m in.”


	4. A Friend of Red Jenny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group have finally set sail for Tevinter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised there are several things I forgot to mention, because I wrote a few of these chapters so long ago and only read over/edited them before posting I forgot to mention the details. So issue 1) Every chapter title is actually the name of a quest in one of the games, just to make my life that little bit harder...
> 
> 2) I'm thinking of posting some mid-week updates in another fic but they will all be little dorian/adaar bits that go between the end of a magisters birthright and the group arriving in Kirkwall, probably.
> 
> 3) In case you didn't catch it, the official Tevinter crew is Adaar, Asala, Sera, Varric, Cole, Isabela, Fenris, Bull + Chargers, and the actual boats crew.
> 
> 4) KIND OF IMPORTANT Right, so, in the official A Magister's Birthright Canon, if you have read the first fic, you may remember that **SPOILERS** Loghain survived the fade. Having Loghain recruited in the Wardens, boy did that piss off Alistair, much to the disappointment and upset of the Hero of Ferelden (and me!), Alistair left.  
> This means, he obviously never became king. So, the events of the Dragon Age comics didn't occur within this canon, which I think A) makes it easier because a lot of people haven't read them, and B) makes it easier because I haven't yet, as much as I really want to. It just means that if you have read them, you may notice some errors.  
>  **tl;dr Dragon age comics never happened in this universe, Alistair isn't king, Varric and Isabela never went to Qarinus**

** Sera & Isabela **

Sera wasn’t happy, not in the slightest.  It had only been five days and she was already sick of this boat shite. The ship wouldn’t hold still for two seconds, constantly throwing her about, the crew were a load of arses, some of them just too busy, some of them too busy for ‘a knife ear’. She’d show him what a knife actually looked like, right before she shoved it up that tight pucker of his.

Why come on a slave rescue if you hated elves? Where was the frigging point in that?

She’d made her way below deck, searching for inquisition members, someone who had time to hold a conversation. Inky was always chatting with somebody else, Bull had his chargers, Varric had plenty of other friends in Kirkwall. Cole would always talk, but Andraste’s tits she wasn’t _that_ desperate. Sometimes she preferred the old days. Not the crazy Coryphe-shit, just them all being together. Before Leliana left to sit in her fancy throne, eating fancy food, giving fancy orders. Before Varric had left for Kirkwall with him- it- Cole. Before everyone started to leave, next it was Blackwall, and he was always a laugh, before the whole murder thing, even after. Then Vivienne, never cared for her, but then she was gone. And last of all Dorian.

At least the other ones visited; at least she got to see them, for a while they weren’t sure if Blackwall had survived, apparently that was a thing that could happen in the joining, Wardens just dropped dead, but he came to visit eventually. Dorian never came back. Looked so sad and shite when he left Skyhold, then never showed face again. Surely Tevinter can’t be that great.

A coin bounced off the wall beside her and she stopped, wondering if this was the beginning of some kind of ambush. She’d found her way to the cargo hold, surely her bow had to be in here somewhere.

When another coin bounced off the wall beside her she looked down at the copper, before heading into the shadows from where it originated. As she wandered slowly between barrels and crates of supplies, all stacked high, she was on alert, looking for either a weapon or the mysterious coin tosser.

“I thought it was you.” A voice announced from the shadows. “Sera, right?”

“Come out!” She demanded of the thing that knew her name.

Expecting a demon or some other magicky shite, she was pleasantly surprised when a qunari emerged from the shadows, short white hair all messed up, and curling horns, big and tall and- and surely there must be a Maker or some other Chantry stuff to put ditties like that, on a woman like that.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” The qunari laughed.

“Asala, wasn’t it? Or some other qunari shite…”

“I’d prefer Asala.” She chuckled. “So, you here officially, or you hitching a ride?”

“Official. Why, you not meant to be here?”

“You think they’d just let a Qunari on board? In Kirkwall?”

“Well there’re two up top, and they seem to be doing alright.”

“Good, it means I’m on the right ship. When I saw you I wasn’t so sure.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I’m following the Inquisition, and haven’t heard any mention of them for days. As far as I know they’re heading for Tevinter. Didn’t think you’d want to be in Tevinter. Y’know, with the big ears and eyes and all.”

“What about you, with your big… Everything?! Isn’t qunari hunting like a sport for them or something?”

“Probably.” She laughed. “So if you’re here officially, you with the inquisition?”

“Don’t think I should tell you that if you’re following them. You might be a spy or somethin’.”

“Wouldn’t object to following your arse a bit. But I’m not a spy, just someone who wants to help.”

“That’s the kind of thing a spy would say. Well unless you’re Bull. You a Ben-has-thingy? Do all qunari spies tell you they’re spies? Because if so, you should fess up now.”

“You mean Ben-Hassrath? Nope definitely not one of them, pretty fucking concerned you know one actually. And I’m still not a spy.”

“What Bull? Well, he’s Tal Va-whatsit now.”

“Tal-Vashoth?” She asked with a laugh. “But I’m not here to chat about qunari; I’d like to hear more about those Red Jennies you mentioned.”

“Yeah? You still interested?” Sera asked, sitting cross legged before the huge woman. She fell naturally into chatting, Asala was easy company, and it might have helped that she was easy on the eyes.

-

She returned to the cargo every day, sparking up conversation with the not-qunari, Tal-Vashoth like Bull and Adaar, and good with daggers, as she learned on the seventh day at sea. By the twelfth they realised where the crew kept their stash of booze, and not soon after they were both laughing so loudly it was a wonder they weren’t found. That was round about when it started to get hot on deck too. Stupid hot. The sun constantly shining. It was better in the cargo, still hot, but no sun, plenty to drink, and plenty to look at.

Asala was a good guy, Sera realised very quickly. She was just _good,_ sneaking onto a ship to help, stealing from noble pricks to give back to the little people. They chatted late into the night, stories about sticking it to a bunch of noble nobs. She didn’t talk about elves like Sera was one of them, she didn’t talk about qunari like Asala was, and she was always up for a prank, so long as she wasn’t spotted.

It was on the twentieth day, when Asala shuffled and said, “Can you hear better with your ears?”

“I dunno, don’t know what your shite hearings like with your pointy little ears.”

“Because I think someone’s coming.” She stated hurriedly.

It was too late though, the man flung open the door to the cargo shedding a little more light on them. Before they had any chance to fight he had already turned to what Sera assumed must be more of them, and cried, “Stowaways!”

“Oh frig!”

-

It was their eighteenth day on sea and Captain Isabella was pleased to discover that for a Qunari who’d only set foot on the ocean a handful of times, the inquisitor had a fair set of sea legs. It had taken the inquisition some time to adjust, but they had, and faster than most.

“I know I agreed to bring you along either way, but I have to know, will you be involved in the operation?” Isabela asked, looking to the Inquisitor.

“It’s highly likely. I’ll offer any assistance I can. I’ve been meaning to ask, how exactly are we going to make it into Tevinter?”

“Antiva are the only nation stupid enough to still trade with the Imperium so they’re allowing ships into Tevinter water from the East without too much question, still we should be docking a few miles east of Qarinus by sunset, and we’ll enter the city under the cover of night. We would usually hit Minrathous, but we’ve had word they’re stricter in their border control.”

“Cap’n.” A member of the crew announced, marching towards the Stern, where the Admiral stood, inspecting the running of the ship. The man she recognised as one of the drunkards she’d hired from the Hanged Man to make up numbers.

“Report.”

“We’ve a couple of stowaways captain. Surprised we missed them for this long in honesty.”

“Well bring them up top.”

“It’s just that, they’re reluctant t’ come, and it’s a few man job.”

“A few men? What kind of stowaways are we harbouring?” She asked with curiosity.

“A big’un. Qunari, Cap’n. And an elf, real fiesty.”

“Qunari?” The Inquisitor asked with surprise. “Don’t tell me. Huge woman who can fit in small spaces. White hair, curling horns, looks a little like me.”

“Aye.” The crewmate answered slowly recalling features.

“One of yours?” Isabela asked with a cautious smile as Adaar groaned.

“Tell her that the Inquisitor wants a word. That should get her out. As for the elf, I’m not sure.”

“We’ll find a way.” He admitted, bowing his head ever so slightly, before turning to leave.

“This qunari, will she be a problem?”

“That entirely depends on what mood she’s in. She shouldn’t be though, it’s all harmless.”

“Family?” His answer was a long suffering sigh, as he nodded his head slightly.

When the same drunkard returned with a few other members of ship, a squinting qunari and a flailing elf that was most definitely familiar, Adaar sighed again.

“Let the elf go.” Isabela instructed, looking down at the choppy blonde hair. “She’s crew. The qunari on the other hand, you can use my quarters, I’ll join you in a moment.”

The qunari broke free of the crews grasps with little more than a shake, following what Isabela could only assume was her sibling, into the quarters at the stern.

“You can’t throw her overboard or something.” The elf cried as soon as she was released.

“I don’t think the inquisitor was planning on it.”

“Good, well make sure he doesn’t. Tell him I said that if he does, I’ll- I’ll think up something that’ll really piss him off, yeah?”

“I’ll let him know.” She said with a smile, turning away from the elf.

As she approached her quarters she could hear the muffled voices from within, raised above what was acceptable in a civil conversation. She wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt two angry qunari, especially not when whatever was on the other side sounded rather juicy.

“The question still stands, what the fuck were you thinking, sneaking onto a ship heading for Tevinter?!”

“I was thinking, _hey, wouldn’t it be great if Kadan didn’t die!_ Maybe you should try it sometime.” So she was a snarky one, she’d fit in.

“Are you mad?! You’re going to Tevinter. _Tevinter.”_

“So are you! You need me, I have to be here, I saw it.” What the blight was that supposed to mean?

“You-… Of course you did. What else did you see?”

“Not much, it’s all subjective, waiting for decisions to be made.”

“Is the decision whether or not I just toss you off the ship?” She took that as her cue to intervene, already aware that she had heard far more than she was meant to.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Your elven friend has something up her sleeve.”

“Sera?” Adaar asked before turning to the qunari. “Please Maker, tell me you and Sera aren’t friends. That’s a pairing no-one could handle.”

“What? She’s great, wouldn’t mind a bit of that.” Asala laughed.

“You are actually unbelievable.” Adaar groaned.

“Says the guy who dated a Vint.” She argued. “You’ve already spoiled the qunari merc for me, I had to look elsewhere.”

“Are you _trying_ to bed your way through my list of friends?”

“Don’t worry; I don’t think I’m to your human’s tastes, I’ve got too many lady parts.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me really.” She argued.

As Adaar sighed he turned his attention to Isabela. “I believe introductions are in order. This is my sister, Asala. Asala, this is Isabela, the Captain of the ship, rightfully it’s her decision whether or not you get to stay.”

“So it’s your ass I’ve got to kiss?” She asked with a wink.

“I was planning on letting you stay, but a good ass kissing wouldn’t go unappreciated.”

“Literal or metaphorical? A lovely creature like you, I’d be more than happy to do the former.”

“So the flattery runs in the family then? I think we could arrange some sort of compensation for your safe passage.”

“At least wait until I’ve left the room!” Adaar cried, shifting around the Captain to escape the cabin.

“So…” Isabela began. “About that ass kissing. You’re the first female Qunari I’ve ever met. Well, I met an elven Qunari, but that’s not quite the same.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint then, because I’m not Qunari. I just have the horns, you see.” She drawled, stepping closer, finger trailing along the edge of Isabela’s desk, carelessly inspecting items.

“Perfect, Qunaris and I don’t get along too well.”

“I read about that actually, something about the Tome of Koslun.” She smirked. “As a matter of fact, I don’t get along too well with them either… And I take it, having never met one, you’ve never been to bed with a tall horned female, qunari or otherwise.”

Isabela gave a short laugh. “That would be a correct assumption.”

“Care to remedy that?” Asala asked, taking another step closer.

Smiling, Isabela leaned against her desk, knowing full well this stowaway had a perfect view straight down the front of her shirt. “I might just enjoy having you around.”


	5. Letter from a Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Dorian/Adaar and some flashback of the time between Dorian's departure and the groups imminent arrival in Tevinter in the form of some of the letters they sent to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to be a chapter, it was meant to be a side story, but I decided most of this is just far too important to be left out, but I'll probably post the original chapter 5 as an extra little out take. Also, wow, this got long.
> 
> Since this chapter is in letters I've written the Thedosian date at the top of each, and in italics and brackets how long it's been since Dorian left for Tevinter. You might be interested to look at [the Calendar page on the dragon age wiki](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Calendar) as it has all of the months and holidays explained.
> 
> I'm also writing a summary of the events of A Magisters Birthright for those who maybe don't want to read it but do want to read this and want it to make complete sense. I'll probably just stick it in a google doc and link to it.

6th Kingsway 9:42 _(1 month)_

Dear Dorian of House Pavus,

I hope your travel went well, and you find yourself safe in the Imperium, I’ve held off writing until I was sure you would be somewhat settled, or would hopefully have at least arrived in Tevinter.

All is well with the Inquisition, Bull, Sera, Cassandra and I went out to the Fallow Mire the week before last to close the final rift in Ferelden. I’ve been holding off on that one for quite some time, Sera complained plenty to make up for your absence. She even threw in some words she didn’t understand the meaning of to make it seem as if you were there. It just made me miss you a little bit more, and it’s not just me. Sera and I joined the Bull and his Chargers on one of their missions a few days ago, I’m drafting this from within the tent, and it was interesting. I think we may do it more often, keep us in the field now that everyone’s gone and there aren’t as many demanding the aid of the Inquisition.

Josephine has had to keep some wine in her office, she over ordered for the third week in a row, with Vivienne returned to Orlais and now you gone too she was not anticipating the sudden decrease in wine consumption. The position of spymaster is still… unfilled. For now Charter, or whatever her bloody name is, is stepping in, whether or not she’s a permanent fixture is yet to be seen. There have been talks, but I’ve been instructed not to mention anything in a letter that may hold leverage if intercepted. Let’s say her locket is still holding influence with us, and she may see fit to take the position, along with her network. Cullen is, well, he’s still exactly the same. Some of the numbers for the army have dropped now there isn’t an ongoing threat, but no matter, he’s pushing them just as hard.

In every other matter you haven’t been gone long enough for there to be advancements.

Please hurry and reform Tevinter, it’s terribly dull without you.

Kadan

\---

29th Parvulis/”Kingsway” (just for you) 9:42 _(2 months)_

Dear Kadan Adaar, Leader of the Inquisition, Herald of Andraste, if we are to use titles,

I am of course glad that you are well and keeping yourself busy despite my absence. I will not dwell on the undoubtedly poor impressions that I am sure were presented. Nothing can come close to the original.

When we arrived safely in the Imperium yester evening your letter was waiting for me. We of course had some trouble with bandits whilst travelling the Imperial highway through Nevarra, as one would expect, but it was nothing that three mages could not tackle. Truly, they are letting their standards slip. We stopped only briefly in Val Dorma. I have always thought the city one of the lesser of the Imperium, but even walking through its gates was enough to render me speechless. Truly the south has rubbed off on me; I’ve almost forgotten how it feels to bathe. I jest of course; we have shared many in our time together. But truly a magically heated bath, with dwarven engineering, and Tevinter’s finest oils, there is little greater.

We passed west of Solas on the way. The city of course. If it was the elf Maker knows I would have had some choice words after his sudden disappearance. There is nothing more to that statement; I merely thought it intriguing that they shared a name, especially with a city in Tevinter of all nations. I’ll inform you when I decide to holiday in Sera (Maker, what an image I wish I could burn that away, at least I’ll be safe in the knowledge you’re suffering with it too.)

The Alexius estate is just as I remember, though it is evident Felix returned here when he stood before the Magisterium. His belongings all still remain, the slaves (that will take quite some getting used to, and already I have been called out by one Magister for referring to them simply as elves) dared not disrupt them. Alexius however seems unwilling to sort through the lot, so it appears that will be the first duty, then revolution. Maxwell has offered to help, and I suppose it is a positive thing if you squint and tilt your head, it means I get to know the boy a little more, but I’d rather it not be over this.

I hope your ventures are working out better than my own. Take care amatus.

Dorian

\---

17th Frumentum/Harvestmere 9:42 _(2 ½ months)_

Amatus,

It has all been spectacularly drab to tell you the truth, the only truly interesting titbit since my last letter a little over two weeks ago is that I have regained my position as enchanter at the circle of Minrathous, and despite my absence they still wish to see me elevated to Junior Enchanter as soon as physically possible. I could see myself becoming one of the youngest senior enchanters in modern history if their appreciation for my talent continues as such. I might have to check who was in fact the youngest, I see a rivalry brewing.

I know I’m here to make change but surely there’s no harm in a little fun along the way, Maker knows I’m not finding it at any of these drab parties Alexius is suggesting for me. It is like being his protégé once again, one would think he still has money and status invested in me the way he manoeuvres me towards political events. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has! Still using me as a student dependent at the ripe age of- forget I began that sentence; I can’t bear to think of my age. I’ll just grip onto _youngest_ senior enchanter and hope I’m correct.

I miss you immeasurably,

Dorian

\---

Satinalia 9:42 _(3 months)_

Kadan, my heart,

With Corypheus gone today’s events shadowed last year’s celebration. Of course since Skyhold does not have an official ‘fool’ we had to name one in the weeks leading up to the events, and though she was against it initially, Sera took to the role with great enthusiasm. With her pranks and all she was the perfect choice, but Maker! I imagine Josey regrets suggesting her in her the talks, even as a joke.

The revered mothers and sisters were not too keen on the celebrations, us being a religious organisation and all, but even their sour moods couldn’t dampen spirits. You would have adored the celebrations, the foods, the outfits, and Sera’s enthusiasm! There’s barely an hour left of the day and she’s still ordering the Orlesian nobles to complete the servant’s tasks.

It all got me thinking, will you be able to return for First Day? It’s a shame that last years was our first First Day together, yet we may be separated for our next.

I eagerly await your replies,

Adaar

\---

4th Cassus/Haring 9:42 _(4 months)_                                 

Adaar,

I regret to inform you that despite our previous plans I will be unable to return to Skyhold for First Day. I have been offered the position of Junior Enchanter, as I suspected would occur, however, my inauguration will occur on the 8th of Wintermarch, and there is no way I could possibly return from Skyhold in that time. Turning them down would be a great offense, and the chance would never appear again. This title is the first step I need to get my name recognised in the Magisterium, this time for the right reasons. I must grasp it.

I apologise amatus. Perhaps next year I may even be able to return home for Satinalia too. Here’s to hoping.

\---

2nd Cloudreach (I’ve given up! Have your common moths!) 9:43 _(9 months)_

Amatus!

Finally, all of those ridiculous parties and sucking up, it has all paid off! I have been given a date, it is in Justinian, over two months from now, the Minrathous senate is one of the busiest I have been told, but I will be allowed to present before the Magisterium my case for the introductions of new laws. They are only small changes; I understand that planting the seed for change is the most important part of it all. The acknowledgement of blood magic, but for now, not the removal, better treatment for slaves, the first step towards more freedom.

At least I have two months to write a speech, it will allow me to think of a way to frame this all for prejudiced old fools to think they’re getting a good deal. Perhaps the first step will be to not refer to them as such… I’ll work on it.

Trust me amatus I’ll be home in no time…

\---

Summerday 9:43 _(10 months)_

Dorian,

We had a rather spectacular wedding at Skyhold today. No one of authority, a scout and a soldier, said they wouldn’t have met if it weren’t for the inquisition. Apparently the end of the world has a habit of bringing people together. Thankfully I didn’t have to attend any great Orlesian chantry event, just a quiet day in Skyhold.

It was a wonderful affair, the wedding. Mother Giselle officiated, I know the two of you were never on the best of terms but it got me thinking, it seems as though any apprehension she held towards you was based purely on you being a Vint, and little else. It was a strange fancy that took me, and I wish I could say it was the first time, but it simply wasn’t. I’m not entirely sure whether you’d be averse to the idea.

Are you aware of the offer Leliana made to me before her leaving? Of course being in Tevinter I’m unsure if you’re even aware of the marriage laws that got put into place today. A fine day for her to do it. I imagine she’s been waiting a long time. Allowing the uproar of her previous announcements to quell. The scout and soldier that married. They were both women, the scout was an elf, the soldier a dwarf. Leliana has lifted all restrictions on Marriage. The chantry will bless interracial marriages and marriages of two men and two women, mages no longer have any restrictions with the circles disbanded. In the eyes of the Chantry love has no bounds.

Enjoy your day kadan.

\---

21st Bloomingtide 9:43 _(10 ½ months)_

Amatus,

Six pairings got married on Summerday. _Six._ Have you ever attended six marriages in one day? I should think not. And there is good reason. I needed the complimentary wine simply to make it through the day. Dashing husbands and suitably blushing brides and not a single one of them happy about the arrangement. A complete and utter farce if you ask me.

I have some news, however, which has delayed this letter slightly. I have been in contact with my mother; I had the unfortunate pleasure of bumping into her at a soiree. Though I wouldn’t call things loving between us, they are hopeful, if delicate. She is a blood mage, but not by the Tevinter estimation, but as I’ve stated in the past most of the influential in the Imperium are, and she’s now vying for the Thalrassian seat in the Magisterium after the death of my Uncle. I never spoke to the man very much; I never spoke to any of the Thalrassian’s particularly, but it appears that since she never could stomach taking my father’s name, she is still very much in the running for the family seat, though I doubt she will gain it, being in the eyes of the senate a Pavus.

There was initially a lot of clucking about the rumours she’s heard, specifically about you and I, and more recently the proposals I will be putting forward to the Magisterium in a month’s time. Unfortunately in order to garner favour I’ve been forced to quell rumours of our involvement. She seemed almost disappointed. She cornered me later, when I was alone. I’m still unsure how to take what she informed me. She claims she had no involvement in the ritual, and she pleaded a fairly decent case, though I only tentatively accept it. I suppose after all it would be nice to retain contact with one family member.

I will be sure to write again next month, and, hopefully, inform you of the glowing praise I received from the Magisterium.

Stay safe.

Dorian

\---

28th Justinian 9:43 _(11 months)_

In all honesty I doubt that could have gone worse. Excuse me, where are my manners?

Amatus,

What a fat load of shit that was! How do they ever expect to get anything done in the senate?! They sit there harping on about how great the Imperium once was and what do they do to try and restore anything of what it was?! Nothing! But then, I’ve seen what these lunatics want. They still want the Venatori. Oh, of course it’s got a different name now, but it’s still the same thing, especially when they’re tossing around names like Erimond in _such high esteem._ Bastards!

They think because they speak of the Old Gods in hushed whispers nobody hears the nonsense they chant. They would slowly drive themselves into deprivation before they heard an utterance of change, before they even contemplated the idea of evolving!

By the time you receive this letter I will no doubt already be on my way to Qarinus to meet with Mae and others who are hopefully more like minded, there are few in Minrathous who wish to listen to reason and I refuse to believe the Imperium is completely beyond hope!

On the subject of hope. I would like to reiterate a question I posed before I left. Why did you send Maxwell?

I will write to you when I arrive in Qarinus and inform you of where I will be staying, until then I recommend you hold your letters.

I hope the Inquisitions efforts fare better than mine,

Dorian

\---

10th August 9:43 _(1 year)_

Dear Maevaris of House Tilani,

I hope this letter reaches you in good health.

I have been expecting word from Dorian for some time; in his final letter to me he stated he would be venturing to Qarinus to meet with you. I admit I have no estimation of the travel time from Minrathous to Qarinus, but it has been over a month since I received his letter and his lack of correspondence is beginning to seriously worry me.

Regards,

Kadan Adaar, Inquistor

\---

16th – They have not arrived. Worry

Mae

\---

2nd Parvulis/Kingsway 9:43

Amatus

I am in Qarinus and safe. Will write when possible. _Do not worry._

Dorian

\---

26th Parvulis/Kingsway 9:43 _(1 year 2 months)_

Amatus

I apologise for my severe lack of communication, the past months have been… hectic, to say the least. Upon deciding to depart for Qarinus we were informed that I was demanded in the senate, from there on it went very rapidly downhill at an alarming rate. I attempted to send a second letter to you but it was lost in it all. I will not relay to you the entire events; I will only inform you that it was an extraordinarily close call, and the three of us are lucky to be alive, myself especially, owing mostly to the ability of one Maxwell Trevelyan (I reiterate, again, did you know?!) There are now Magister’s in the capital who very much want us dead and view Alexius and I as revolutionaries who seek to destroy Tevinter, so we shan’t be returning there in a hurry. As I’m sure you can imagine Alexius is less than pleased.

Mae is giving us a place to stay for the time being, so any correspondence should be sent to her estate. My mother offered me a place to stay but frankly, I still don’t trust the woman.

I apologise in advance Amatus, I will not make it back for Satinalia, and it appears with the way things are escalating, our plans for First day will have to be forgotten. I’m sorry Amatus.

Dorian

\---

2nd Harvestmere 9:43 _(1 year 2 months)_

My heart,

I thought ‘do not get into fights with Magisters’ was one of the requirements! I am only happy you are safe and alive. As for your ongoing suspicion about Max, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

All I care is that you stay safe.

Kadan

\---

15th Umbralis/Firstfall 9:43 _(1 year 3 months)_

Amatus

Regrettably this is bad news, I mentioned months ago when I presented to the Magisterium that they were holding onto the ideals of the Venatori. Well, cults come and go with the seasons in the Imperium, like the weather, or fashion. But there is a new one rising, or rather, risen, and they seem dangerous, to say the least. They are persuasive, and oppose almost every value we so called ‘rebels’ hold.

There is not a chance we could change the hearts of the Magisters in Minrathous, and it appears Qarinus has little difference. Though this organisation appears secret in nature they are growing in number, and in brashness. Many Alti are openly declaring themselves members, whilst cults like this usually remain a dirty secret for behind locked doors. Some of them even go as far as to wear dragon heraldry that blatantly represents the old gods.

I can’t yet decide however which is more fearsome, the mere formation of this cult, or their dedication to Andoral, the old god of unity as they vouch, or the Dragon of Slaves or Chains to most. It seems fitting that they call themselves Teleta, for more reasons than one. I only hope this is another fashion that will die with the changing of the season.

Nothing good can come this.

\---

13th Haring 9:43 _(1 year 4 months)_

Dorian please disregard Josephine’s most recent letter, she is threating. The last thing you need when you’re already under so much pressure is to believe I have some imagined death sentence. I am ill, yes, and have been for some time, but it is nothing to worry about! I am still able to carry out many of my duties; I just won’t be out in the field for a while. It’s simply a case of being tired and achy, I assure you nothing major. I believe I have already found a cure to this minor ailment and soon enough I will back out helping villagers and recapturing lost livestock, the usual day to day trappings of the Herald of Andraste apparently.

To reiterate, _do not worry, I am fine._ Josephine is wildly exaggerating. You do not have to return to Skyhold on my account.

As an aside, the Inquisition are taking the threat the Teleta pose seriously, and looking into Southern implications and possible intervention.

\---

2nd Molioris/Bloomingtide 9:44 _(1 year 9 months)_

Amatus I hope you are well, I sent a letter a little over three weeks ago and I wonder if it was lost, or perhaps your reply was lost, for I have received no word from you. This is an update that I believe the Inquisition would be interested in more than anything. The Teleta, they _are_ dangerous, truly. I cannot tell whether they outweigh the Venatori with the whole ripping a hole in the sky ordeal, but thus far with the power they are gaining I have reason to believe so.

There was an uprising in Carastes this past week, I only managed to hear because I was quick on gaining information, now that I have my own base of operations I have somewhat of a network established in Qarinus. I imagine Varric would be almost proud.

As for the uprising, all that I am aware is that _many_ slaves revolted, not that it doesn’t happen often in the Imperium, but this wasn’t a single house, this was an entire city. And now? No record. It occurred only a week ago and you could walk through Carastes and be none the wiser, many are! Any enemies are eliminated with a frightening swiftness.

The Teleta should not be underestimated.

\---

29th Molioris/Bloomingtide 9:44 _(1 year 10 months)_

Dear Master Dorian Pavus,

I apologise for the intrusion but it has come to pass that I am now responding to all of Adaar’s letters. He has read your previous letter and given me express consent to do so.

I regret to inform you that Master Adaar’s reasoning as to being unable to return your letters is that he has been taken sicker. Had I known about the letter he apparently sent you months ago, downplaying his illness, I would have done all in my power to stop him.

Over the past year his health has been gradually deteriorating, but for the past two months in particular he has been unable to complete his duty, and has been largely confined to his bed. From the tone of your letter, I can only assume our attempts to inform you have been futile.

Adaar on the other hand seems to believe he will be completely fine, when he finds the correct cure, and urges me to inform you that you should not return from your duties, he understands how important they are to you.

In confidence, between you and I, although he tries his hardest Adaar has not been himself for quite some time, any close friends would tell you as much.

I only wish to warn you.

Josephine Montilyet

Ambassador to the Inquisition

\---

Josephine, I have extremely important matters I must attend to and cannot leave until early Solace. As soon as I am able I will be leaving Qarinus. Evil cults permitting, please prepare for my return to Skyhold early to mid-August. I will send you a letter closer to the time. –Dorian

\---

1st Solace 9:44 _(1 year 11 months)_

Dear Master Dorian Pavus,

I am writing this to you as quickly as possible, only hoping that this reaches you before your departure. Adaar has recovered; I understand that you would be sceptical receiving a letter from him considering his previous deception. But I assure you, it surprised us all considering he has been in an unfit state for nearly an entire year now.

It is of course, your decision, if you still decide to return to Skyhold we would happily welcome your return, but healers claim Adaar is in full health and has been for over a full week now, though I did not want to jump to conclusions and dissuade you too soon. They even believe he could be out of Skyhold and continuing his duties before fall arrives!

Josephine Montilyet

Ambassador to the Inquisition

\---

August _(2 years)_

Kadan I hope this reaches you, I must apologise for my lack of contact, I will not be arriving. I cannot explain the brevity of this note, or anything else currently, only that letters are being intercepted. I only hope you are well. If you receive a duplicate please ignore. Do not reply.

D

\---

Firstfall _(2 years 3 months)_

Kadan,

I understand that as of recent my letters have been lacking, and I have no knowledge of how many you have received, if any. Whether or not you have attempted to send a reply, I have received nothing. There is little I can say and I hope this manages to slip through the net, and that you understand my more cryptic clues, I am unable to state names in case this is intercepted.

Tevinter is being closed off, Teleta and trade only in and out. There has been one more uprising in Asariel which I know of, no traces left. Mati and Geal are moles. Hope’s a pain in the arse and a Magister now. We are all leaving for Minrathous soon, we have heard whispers of plans to oust Radonis and these plans cannot be carried out.

D

\---

Solace _(2 years 11 months)_

Dorian,

I know that you will never receive this, because I never plan to send it. Had I the plans I still wouldn’t have any idea where to send it to.

I’m on a ship currently, headed for the Imperium, Qarinus. They have called 'land' and apparently we will reach our destination by night fall. A small hopeful part of me wishes I will find you there, the logical part of me however, knows that the odds of that are stacked against me. There is little chance I will find you, I just need to know you are alive.

I know how you would react, the same I did when you spoke of returning to Skyhold, you would tell me I’m being a fool; that my responsibility is with the inquisition. I suppose I’m being more of a fool, traveling to this strange qunari-hating land just to know you’re safe.

I worry though. Asala has changed, and I had not seen her for five whole years. You have been gone for three, what if you have changed too, what if I have changed without realising, Asala tells me I have. What if you don’t feel for me anymore? Especially when… No I mustn’t write that someone could find this. You’re going to hate me Dorian, you will hate what I’ve done, I know it… I’m sorry.

Amatus, kadan… I ‘m sorry.


	6. A Timely Interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrive in Tevinter and bunker up for the night, only it's not that simple...

**Kadan**

The appeal was obvious. Adaar could see why Dorian spoke of the land so fondly. It had been quite a trek to Qarinus from where the boat had docked, shielded from view by heavy jungle. Many had complained of the heat, the trees, the wildlife, but there was something that almost felt like home, and he knew Asala felt it too.  He’d looked over at Bull after they’d walked a short while and the Tal-Vashoth had given a smile that could only have been described as knowing, but there was something strained in his features, that the Vashoth almost missed.

Asala had never stepped foot higher than Ostwick, and Kadan could not remember a time before the Free Marches. Jungles had been lost to them, Par Vollen would never be their home, but they were bred to thrive in those lands.

The jungles of course were nothing in comparison to the city. They stopped a mile from the outskirts, a cliff that overlooked the marble city. Orlesian architecture held nothing to Tevinter, dwarves and magic working in unison to create feasibly impossible structures that touched the skies. Even the most mundane of building appeared striking at this distance. He had to wonder, if this was Qarinus, what treasures could the capital hold?

“You could never get tired of looking at Tevinter, could you?” Isabela asked.

“Trust me.” Fenris stated. “You can.”

“Spoil sport.” Isabela complained with a pout. “Well, we should be able to reach the city before nightfall.”

“And where exactly in Tevinter is willing to take in three qunari and two elves?” Varric questioned.

“We know a place.” Isabela ensured with a wink, gripping the pack slung over her shoulder before heading forward.

Adaar’s attention was taken by Sera gradually drawing closer to his sister and Isabela as the trip drew on. Maker help them, no doubt if Harding had joined them they might have had a chance at completing the set. He shook the thought away with a visible convulsion. He thought of three of them as little sisters, some of them smaller than others, and for one it wasn’t merely a sentiment, and that was a thought he wished had never graced his mind.

“You all right there Tal?” Varric asked, but the quiet chuckle that accompanied his grin suggested he knew the precise train of thought. “Need a distraction?”

“Yes, please.”

“Up for a bet?” The dwarf asked, as it stood, Varric owed Adaar five coppers and this was no doubt a plan to relieve him of that debt. But at that moment he would happily take the bait.

 “You know I’m nearly always up for a bet.”

“Barely over the border dwarf and you’re betting away your coin?” Fenris asked with equal amounts amusement and interest.

“Fifty silvers,” Varric began ignoring the elf, “That this contact of Isabela’s is a brothel.”

“That doesn’t ease my mind in the slightest. Fifty silvers seems like you’re sure this is a sound investment.”

“A sound investment would be the fact that you’re going to sneak out in the dead of night, into the upper district, and get yourself caught searching for the whereabouts of a specific mage in a country full of them.” Varric stated matter-of-factly. Adaar risked a quick glance at the dwarf and caught the single raised eyebrow directed at him.

“I’m not an idiot Varric.”

“Are you going to bet against it?” When the qunari remained silent for a long while the dwarf laughed. “Precisely what I thought. Just don’t do anything _too_ stupid, okay?”

“Look at my track record, I don’t think I can promise that to you and keep a clear conscience.”

“Yeah.” The dwarf sighed. “That sounds about right.”

The rest of the trek towards the outskirts of the city was a strange affair. As they drew ever closer, the night seemed to fall quicker than in the south, but perhaps that was simply a trick of the trees that surrounded them,  and the conversation lulled, Bull had been on edge throughout the entire journey, and Kadan could only guess, he’d heard stories of the islands from his parents. Enough to know that this was probably too close to home, to war, to be a comfort.

Unfortunately as the time went on he didn’t appear to be the only one on edge, and Kadan didn’t know which one he was most worried about the hulking qunari veteran, or the lyrium imbued elf.  Either way he didn’t think his staff would stand against either the great sword or maul that either wielded.

To say they were in a party that was now less than an hour from the Capital of Tevinter, their seemed to be far too many people present that would be more than happy to kill a ‘Vint and not think about it twice. But he’d been assured this was a stealth mission. Not that he had any issue with killing Tevinters, he’d trekked across the countryside taking them out under Dorian’s strict instructions. But this was different. They weren’t here to draw attention.

With that thought in mind he pulled on the gloves in his pack, concealing the mark on his hand, and took the moment to discreetly adjust the cuffs on his wrists. With some thick leather the faint glow the mark still emitted could be concealed completely and the last thing they needed was someone realising exactly who he was. The cuffs were a constant recently.

Finally the trees thinned, before coming to an abrupt end, revealing the dark walls that encircled the city. Sera was the one to ask, “Well what are we gonna do, go over the top?”

“I wouldn’t.” Bull warned. “The ‘Vints’ll have it warded.”

“We’re going to walk through the door.” Isabela answered.

And very much to Kadan’s surprise that was precisely what they did. The door they used however, it was not the entrance to the glittering city they had seen from the trees. This was the dockside entrance, humans and elves alike rushing about even though the sun barely graced the sky. Shouts filled the air, the docks humming with life. The lower city was no different. In the dark it still thrived. Whilst some merchants were clearly packing away their days goods, some of the seedier offerings were only just emerging, trying to grasp their attention.

In Qarinus it was clear where the lower city ended and the upper began, they took their names literally, a ridge separating the two, so that the gleaming marble sat above the old brick buildings and shacks.

“This is our stop.” Isabela stated as she pressed open the door of one of the sturdier buildings.

“Well, that’s a brothel if ever I saw one.” Varric muttered, observing the blacked out windows and swinging sign, a snake wrapped around a lily.

“A Vint brothel.” The Iron Bull chuckled.

“Well, we’re not going to get much done admiring the… scenery.” Adaar stated, nervously adjusting the cuffs on his wrists before pressing the door open.

The interior was… questionable, but it would serve them for a few nights he supposed. In all honesty it appeared to be a Tavern for all intents and purposes, the only difference that many of the patrons seemed to be severely lacking in clothing. Skirts that were more belts, long tassels hanging from them, and a man that seemed to be covered in scarves and little else. A conversation about a dance with scarves flicked to the forefront of Adaar’s memory and he made a point of asking Dorian where exactly he’d learnt the technique.

Isabela was in a conversation with a female dwarf, almost as wide with musculature as she was tall, who appeared grossly overdressed by comparison, when she turned to look over them she announced uncertainly, “So! This is… your crew?”

“This is some of it.” Isabela answered.

“Three humans, three qunaris, two elves and a dwarf. That’s… Well it’s quite the crew. But I said I was willing to help and I am.”

“And you are..?” Adaar asked.

“Where are my manners? I’m the owner, Igrid Cadash.” She said with pride, flicking her red braid aside, before hopping atop a stool so she could look Kadan in the chest. He supposed that with humans she would be closer to eye level, but either way they shook hands.

“Cadash, now where have I heard that name?” Varric asked, “Warrior caste?”

“You’d be lucky!” She scoffed. “Carta now. And I know about you, Tethras.”

“So, ex-warrior caste, it’s the same thing.” He muttered with a wave of his hand. “What I mean is why are you out here running a brothel in Tevinter? And helping the likes of Isabela?”

“Hey!” Isabela chirped.

“Don’t you know, apparently we Cadash’s tried to help the elves escape when Tevinter tried to take them all as slaves. It’s a little bit of our heritage some of us are very proud of, too proud of.”

“ _Too_ proud?” Bull asked.

“Turns out Orzammar doesn’t take kindly to that kind of crap. Or trying to locate and steal a golem. Or threatening a revolt. Usual kind of shit.”

“Can’t imagine why they kicked you out.” Varric chuckled.

“Mutual decision. But from right here in the Imperium I have everything I need, clients for lyrium dealing, a bit of change in my pocket from the business. And my guys are treated well, I take them from Magisters, they decide if they want to stay, I’ll find them employment they’re comfortable with or take enough money to get them back to wherever they came from, or wherevers safe. Usually with this lot.” She said gesturing to Isabela and Fenris.

“Have you saved the suite for us?” Isabela asked.

“Anything for you sugar.” She replied with a wink. “Just promise you won’t be dragging any Alti or Templars down here. I can’t be dealing with that shit anymore.”

“I promise.” She answered sweetly, trailing the group through a set of double doors.

“Oh, and I’d keep your eyes open for the Teleta.” Kadan’s skin prickled.

“I’ve heard about them.” He stated. “Are they still active?”

“Still active? They’re bigger than ever. Watch your backs; I’ve seen some cults in my time, but nothing like this, there have been disappearances, elves. But, you knew the state the Imperium was in.”

“I didn’t know there was a cult roaming the streets snatching elves.” Isabela argued.

“It’s nothing new.” Fenris stated. “Our room?”

“Through the door to the right. Your right, not mine.” She added with a smile though the tension in it was obvious. “There are only four bed rooms, I didn’t realise there would be so many, and if this is only part of you…”

“Don’t worry the Chargers can fit in one.” Krem said with a smile.

“We’ll figure it out.” Isabela had agreed.

-

The girls had been given a room and Kadan didn’t dare think about it, but for the night he’d been pitched with Varric and Cole, it wouldn’t be difficult to sneak past the dwarf his snoring drowned out any noise Kadan could make, but he already knew the Qunari was leaving. Cole on the other hand… Then again he’d rather the spirit who’d only recently gotten used to his need for sleep than the three warriors with keen hearing who had been put on edge by the whole situation.

He waited so late into the night that Igrid had shut up shop, before he pulled on his robes and boots and headed for the city. He’d made it most of the way to the entrance before he was assaulted, slim arms wrapping around his middle as a voice cried, “Whatyadoin’?”

“Andraste’s tits Sera! Fuck!” He lowered his hand, extinguishing the fireball ready to be conjured, the heat already tingling in the tips of his fingers. Remembering the situation he whispered, “I almost put a flame up your arse.”

Sera snorted as she unwrapped her arms, lowering her voice. “You don’t want to get caught, you shouldn’t go sneaking. Now where you heading, I’m coming with you.”

“An elf and a qunari wandering Qarinus? Not the best idea.”

“Better than a lonely qunari though, yeah?”

“I… I honestly don’t think it is.” He admitted. “You heard Igrid.”

“Well, I’m coming anyway. It’s too hot round here, can’t get to sleep.”

“Okay.” Adaar nodded, realising she already had her bow slung over her shoulder and her boots laced, she’d been waiting for a reason to leave, would no doubt have left on her own sooner or later. It was marginally safer if they stuck together.

Her grin widened, as she pulled her bow tighter over her shoulder marching from the building. If he’d had the choice he wouldn’t have brought Sera. Not because he doubted her, far from it, he’d seen her skill more than often enough to understand she could protect herself, but up here, it was a whole different battlefield. In the south she was happy to start a fight, make a pincushion of a noble if they called her ‘knife-ear’, or him ‘ox’, up here, there was nothing else they would call them, except perhaps slave. And Sera-… Sera wasn’t slave material, if she was caught by slavers there would be no subordination, no subservience, not even long enough for them to find a way to save her, he knew it. They’d kill her long before then. No, she couldn’t get caught.

As they wandered cautiously about the streets, confronted by only a few elves and one human woman, most of whom stopped dead in their tracks to stare at him, it became apparent these were not the streets Dorian was fond of, these were the slums of the glittering jewel that was supposedly the Imperium.

“What exactly are you doing out here anyhow?” Sera asked, and Kadan was actually rather surprised she’d been quiet this long.

“Mapping the streets, I need to know where the lower district ends, because I’m going to have to find someone in the upper district fairly soon and I want to spend as little time in there as possible.”

“You don’t need to hide it from me. You’re looking for Dori-Poopus, ain’t you?”

“I- He might not even be in Qarinus, in his final letter, he was planning on traveling to Minrathous. The odds are he’s not even here, but I might be able to find someone who can tell me if he’s still alive at the very least.”

There was a short pause before Sera spoke. “You’ll find him. Shite like that has a way of happening with you.”

He laughed quietly, “Yeah. I suppose it does. I just hope he hasn’t moved on…”

“From the frigging Herald?! Not likely.”

“You always had a-” Adaar stopped when he heard shouting in Tevene. It was only then that he took in the surroundings, finally drawn from the conversation, he realised the old rundown buildings changed had to white marble and smooth stone a street back, the cobbles beneath their feet had taken to a slight incline. Upper district. Crap.

He turned cautiously to find the source, discovering that unfortunately it was aimed at them. Shit, he didn’t know enough Tevene to understand this angry mage screaming at them. Sera pulled an arrow from her quiver but Adaar stilled her arm, killing what looked like a Magister was the last thing they needed.

“ _Kaffas! Ei mordeve deid!”_ He was fairly certain he understood that, in fact he’d had enough Venatori threaten to end his life that it was a sentence he was especially familiar with. Tevene lessons, Maker please come back to him.

“I, er… _Avanna.”_ The Magister reeled back slightly, evidently not expecting them to understand Tevene, from their initial confusion. “ _Sed ei vento nai mordoi deid.”_

The Magister paused for a moment, before gripping his staff, pulling it from its holding. Kadan barely had chance to respond before daggers flashed from the shadows, and the Magisters head rolled to the floor body following soon after, an arrow shot through his chest for good measure.

Asala stepped from the shadows, looking over the dead mage. “Well that was a close one.”

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?! And I was offering peace, telling him I didn’t want to kill him before you stepped in!”

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I don’t think he was taking the offer.” Asala argued, looking down at the now decapitated, and assuredly dead Magister. “If it wasn’t for me you’d be cooked Qunari. _That’s_ why I’m here.”

“You realise this is punishable by death, this isn’t like the south were you can swan around doing what you like.” He looked to Sera as he continued. “Both of you have to stay in check. This is Tevinter, and you are an elf and a qunari as much as you both might hate that fact, and here they will kill you for that fact alone, don’t give them further reason.”

“Yeah... But what we doing with the Magister?” Sera asked gesturing to the body with an arrow.

“Dump it.” Asala answered.

“No.” Kadan argued. “See if he has a birthright, then burn it.”

“A birthright?” The Vashoth asked. “The blight’s that?”

“An amulet. At least I assume they’re all amulets.” Kadan explained as he dragged the body into the side street it had come from, a dark alley. Asala stepped backwards, evidently uncomfortable with the way he searched the Magisters remains, but looting corpses had become so common an occurrence he no longer thought anything of it, when you had a fledgling organisation with nothing you took what you could get.

He soon found what he was searching for, a necklace as he’d been expecting, pearls set in silver, the design somewhat resembling a butterfly. He also managed to find some gold, something he was certain would come in useful in Tevinter, and an opened letter, at a quick glance he could see it was addressed to a Magister Gallus, whom he assumed was now deceased, it was strangely written in common.

With a birthright in his hand a plan sprung to mind and he awkwardly removed the body’s outer robes. Sera had refused to look and Asala had stated she wanted nothing to do with it, so it was with much complication that the trio finally abandoned the burning body devoid of the majority of its belongings.

“You think _I’ve_ changed.” Asala began. “But you’re stripping men and burning their carcases.”

“ _You_ decapitated him.” The Vashoth retaliated. “I’m doing what’s necessary for our survival. If anyone found him they’d kill us.”

“And the robes?”

“I have a plan.”

“Should hope so.” Sera sniffed.

“We have this now.” Adaar stated lifting the amulet into view.

“ _That’s_ what you were looking for?!” Asala questioned. “Some costume jewellery, probably worth a few silvers.”

“It’s more than that.” Adaar clarified. “I’d say from the look of it this Magister was from a middle family, still influential in the Imperium, but probably didn’t have an awful lot of say in the Magisterium.”

“You can tell that from some necklace?” Sera asked.

“You don’t realise how useful this will be. With this amulet we can effectively operate under the Gallus household’s power. Birthrights are invaluable.”

“Even to two qunari and an elf?”

“Still not too sure about that, but to a Soporati, it might be.”

“Yeah, but where are supposed to find one these Soap-a-what-y’s?” Sera asked.

“We already know one.” Kadan stated with a widening grin. “Even better, we could know a Magister.”


	7. The Magister's Birthright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Trespasser came out this week... And it's set between this and A Magister's Birthright. Unfortunately that means that for the most part I'm going to ignore it and claim this as an AU. There will be no spoilers here.

** Krem **

“No.” Krem stated simply as Adaar hovered over him with the amulet. The rest of the party continued to chat amongst themselves as the conversation went on, even though he was certain there were several ears listening in to the conversation, that’s what being the Herald of Andraste got you.

“I’d do it myself but I think they’d realise.”

“Do you have any idea what I’d get for impersonating a Magister?! Worse than death. I’m not a mage they would realise sooner or later; you might as well put Fenris in the robes and send him out! I’m Soporati!”

“Yes but that won’t matter, not when you have an elf who is ‘definitely not a mage’ with you posing as a slave.”

“Elf who -… Dalish.” Krem sighed, looking over at the rest of the chargers; they’d travelled into the city when the first group had sent back word all was well. “You’ve given this some thought haven’t you?”

“I was up all night thinking of a way to make this work.”

“I still don’t understand why you need it to work Tal.” Varric interrupted, proving Krem’s theory about other’s listening correct.

“Because I found this on the Magisters corpse.” Adaar finally admitted, pulling a letter from his pocket.

It was Varric who reached out to take the letter, reading over it slowly. After a long pause he muttered, “Shit.”

“Mind if I look?” Krem asked. Varric obliged handing over the letter. It was official, wax seal, noble houses crest printed into the paper. An invitation to a gala, a Teleta one, this new organisation they’d been warned about. It was a cult gathering, plain and clear, no hiding it, as if they had nothing to hide. But then the name at the bottom, he could have sworn he’d seen it before, heard it mentioned, but he couldn’t put his finger on it as one of the Venatori. Could just be another Magister. “Who’s Tilani?”

“Maevaris Tilani.” Adaar answered. “She was a good friend of Dorian’s; she helped the Inquisition try and end the Venatori by standing before the Magisterium and denouncing them. Her involvement in Teleta activity makes no sense, let alone hosting a gala for them.”

“What have you gotten yourself into Mae?” Varric sighed.

“A friend of yours?” Bull asked.

“You could say family. She married my cousin… _This_ isn’t Mae.”

“And that’s why we need entry to that party. These people they’re powerful, they can go about throwing parties in the open, and with our allies, we need to know why.”

“But why is it in common?” Asala asked.

“Slaves.” Fenris answered, they all turned to the elf. “You said yourself they’re not hiding it, they want everyone to know. The slaves who will most likely be able to read will be the ones stolen from the south.”

“Why would they want them to know?” Varric asked, “Surely that’s the opposite of what a secret evil cult wants.”

“But they’re not secret.” Adaar argued. “They’re trying to drum up fear, trying to establish a presence. They want the slaves to know they can’t up rise like they have in other cities.”

“But didn’t you say they were a secret, that Dorian found out through spies and that?” Sera asked.

“One guess at who those spies were.” Bull muttered.

“Slaves.” Fenris growled.

Krem sighed. “When is this gala?”

“Tomorrow evening.” The inquisitor answered, before Krem could find the answer himself in the letter.

“We haven’t had word from our contact yet.” Isabela admitted, “And we can’t move in on the break-in until they give us the go ahead.” It appeared that at this point almost the entire gathering had turned their attention to the conversation.

“So you want me to dress as a Magister and just walk into this party? Even as a Magister, you don’t think they’d… Have some aversions to _someone like me_ just waltzing in?”

Adaar smiled smugly. “If what I’ve heard about Maevaris is true, they wouldn’t dare, not at _her_ _party_.”

So that’s where he’d heard the name before. If it was the Magister he was thinking of, she’d made quite a stir when she’d taken her father’s place as Magister. Not just a woman in the Magisterium, but a woman who declared herself as such little over a year before taking her seat. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Does that mean you will?” The qunari asked.

The Tevinter sighed, wishing that perhaps he hadn’t offered his service, being the bleeding heart, saviour of Tevinter was Dorian’s routine, the lieutenant was more than satisfied just getting by, just surviving. More than happy to be rid of the place in all honesty.

Andraste’s tits. What was he getting himself into?

-

They’d been given a simple task that day. They’d taken down giants and dragons, buying clothes should have been exactly what it was, a walk in the market. The only issue was the job had been appointed to himself and Dalish, and then they’d picked up a couple of extra members. Skinner couldn’t stand waiting around; he knew how antsy she got, she’d been on a boat for nearly three weeks, if they kept her cooped up any longer a ‘shem’ would get a taste of her knife.

When Sera had seen the leaving party she’d jumped aboard as if one skittish elf wasn’t enough. And then Asala had caught up with them as they left the… Inn, and three elves, a qunari and a Soporati were wandering through the streets of lower Qarinus.

_A simple task._ He reminded himself as they were turned away by another merchant, Sera and Dalish both complaining about the intense heat, and even he had to admit that he could remember long summers in heavy dresses, cursing the layers, thankful when he could throw it all off, trade it for a thin shirt comfortable trousers, no expectations, no heatstroke.

“You alright in there?” Asala asked with a chuckle and he smiled as he nodded.  He hadn’t had much chance to speak with the qunari.

“It’s just been a while since I was in Tevinter, I didn’t really miss the place.”

“So why come back?” She asked.

“Why did a qunari decide to sneak onto a ship heading for Tevinter?” He countered.

“I can’t have Kadan killing himself. And I’ll admit I was curious.”

“Kadan?”

Asala laughed, “Kadan Adaar, the inquisitor, the herald of Andraste, shit for brains. He’s got plenty of names depending on who you ask.”

“I just thought Kadan meant something else... But, you think I won’t have people I want to protect?”

“The Chargers..? But they were safer in the south?”

“No. My family are still in Tevinter, not Qarinus though, I think both me and the inquisitor were hoping for a Minrathous detour.”

“So how did a ‘Vint end up in the south? Oh, you don’t mind me calling you…?”

“Nah. I left the army under… Circumstances. Chief saved my life, offered me a place in a mercenary group he was building up. Haven’t left his side since. How’d a qunari end up in the south?”

“I was born there.” She answered simply. “Nothing qunari about me.”

Sera stepped out of a store a male elf in tow, pinched features pulled down as his eyes shifted from side to side, and Krem had to wonder when she’d disappeared, it was only then he turned and realised they’d lost every elf in their company.

“Are you the friends this elf spoke of?” The pinched elf asked.

“I assume so.” Krem answered hesitantly.

“Come.” The man said simply, beckoning them into the store.

They followed quickly, the elf skittish. Dalish and Skinner waited on the inside of the store, the latter playing with a knife that Krem knew did not belong to her. As soon as all five were inside the male elf closed the door, shutting the lock quickly.

“You are Soporati?”

“Yes.” Krem answered, noticing in the dim light of the store, as the elf reached for the lock at the top of the door, the scars that circled around his wrists. He’d been with Bull long enough to know he had to keep an eye out for the little things. “Liberati?”

“Yes. My name is Clemens. I believe I may be able to aid you and your friends.” A Tevinter name as well as accent Krem noted, probably grew up in the Imperium, never knew anything else.

“In what way precisely, you have the clothing we need?” He couldn’t be sure, the store was a bizarre, all kind of trinkets sitting on shelves, it sold many things he couldn’t even begin to consider naming. Tevinter, even growing up there he couldn’t begin to understand it.

“I- I suppose, yes, I could supply the items you need, if you have the coin. But I can also give you access to Magister Tilani’s home.”

“This one says he knows one of the slaves.” Sera stated. “They can sneak us in.”

“Yes.” Clemens confirmed, “Len, she was owned by my old master, when he died some of us were tossed to the streets, the more suitable were sold on. Len was one of the less fortunate in some respects. I have heard that Magister Tilani is a fair master, but a master still. I still do trade with Len on behalf of her master.” That explained the strange items then. Alti, always begging for something ridiculous and exotic, and this man served them, through their slaves, granted, but the goods still reached the upper class.

“And this Len,” Asala began, and Clemens’ eyes darted to Skinner, spinning the blade on the tip of her finger, then back to the qunari, “She would be willing to disobey Tilani?”

“If she was safe, yes. Len has… Len was always a soft heart, she dreamed of escape from the moment she stepped foot on Imperial soil, but never had the power. She is Dalish, snatched from her clan.” Krem was only half surprised when a snap shocked them all, and he turned to discover Skinner with a steadying hand on Dalish’s arm, a wooden ornament broken between her fingers, purple wisps floating from it.

“I’ll pay for it.” She whispered.

“You are Liberati?” Clemens asked. “They don’t often free those with vallaslin.”

“No, I’m Dalish.” She answered shortly.

“And you came to the Imperium? Are- Are you all not Liberati?”

“Not even sure what that means.” Sera answered.

“We’re from the South.” Asala answered.

“Maker, you are fools. To come to the Imperium, now…”

“It’s that bad?” Asala questioned.

“It is worse… But Sera, she told me of your missions. I will tell Len, she will aid you in entering the manse, for certain, beyond that I do not believe there is much we can do without putting all of our lives at stake. They will be your own risks to take.”

“And clothing?”

“Of course what do you need?”

Krem handed the still nervous elf the list and with a nod he disappeared into the back of the store. Immediately the lieutenant turned to Dalish. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She answered, and the room turned to silence.

Eventually Asala broke it, turning to Sera and asking, “What exactly did you tell him our mission was?”

“I told him we were freeing slaves?”

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Skinner asked, the first words she’d said since the elf had ushered them inside.

“Well it got us somewhere didn’t it? Not like I gave him any details.”

The conversation ended as Clemens returned with a bundle of clothing, “This should do. Please, don’t tell anyone you purchased them here.”

“We won’t.” Krem ensured as he handed over a sack of coin, before pulling a few extra from his own pocket to pay for the broken trinket.

“And one final thing?” Clemens asked as they all turned to leave the store. “If you have a chance to free Len amongst the others, to return her to her clan, please…”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Dalish answered before Krem could.

As soon as they’d left the store Sera turned to the group, grin spread from ear to ear, “See, bet you’re glad you brought me now.”

Andraste’s tits. _What was he getting himself into?_


	8. No Rest For the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tilani's soiree, and a familiar face in the crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of an update last week, I just moved back to uni and hadn't had a chance to settle in properly. I'm also getting a little behind on chapters now.

** The Iron Bull & Dalish **

Sera had pulled through on her contacts Bull mused, but evidently they hadn’t been expecting two elves, three qunari, a dwarf, and Cole (Human but still enough to shit anyone up) to show up on their doorstep. The petite elven woman that stood in the doorway looked up at them with surprise that bordered on horror. Never seen a Qunari before. Valaslin arched over her eyebrows, taken then, didn’t grow up like this.

After a short while she averted her eyes muttering “Avanna.”

“You Len?” Sera asked, not at all discreetly. “Spoke with Clemens at the store, he said you could get us in.”

“Ah, yes.” She answered, “I’m Arnan'len Lavellen, but Len is easier around here.” The accent was Dalish, so painfully Dalish that Bull couldn’t help but think of his boys, they wouldn’t be upstairs yet, but soon.

“So Len, you can help us?” Adaar asked softly.

She hugged her arms a little, either nervous over betraying her masters or the two qunari standing before her, she couldn’t have heard anything good about them, just the war. In all honesty Bull was surprised they were still talking to the small woman, and she hadn’t just shut the door in their faces. But her eyes flickered over Adaar, over and over, an unnatural response, considering Bull was certainly the bigger of the two, even Asala beat her brother when it came down to muscle mass. Adaar was positively unintimidating by qunari standards.

Finally she stepped out of the way, allowing them entry to the servant’s quarters. “I hope it won’t be too cramped for you, I know it’s not made for Qunari.”

“We’ll be good, thanks.” Asala said with a kind smile.

Len rung her hands nervously her mouth opening and closing until she finally spoke. “Are there many Qunari in the south?”

“How do you know we’re from the south?” Bull asked.

She reeled back from the question. “Oh, well, now I’m not too sure. But you,” She said gesturing to the Adaars. “You have southern accents I can hear free Marcher when you say certain words.”

“We did spend most of our life in the Free Marches.”

“Me too!” She stated excitedly before her face fell, “But there’s no point dwelling on the past… I was only asking because you fit a description.”

“A description?” Adaar asked cautiously.

“Yes, but I’m already harbouring intruders, the last I need is to be spreading propaganda.”

“You’re doing something good, helping us this evening.” He encouraged.

“Yes, well I hope so. Magister Tilani, I have worked for her enough years to know this isn’t like her, to have Venatori about the place.”

“We’ve heard the same. We have friends at the party, could you tell us how they’re doing?” Bull asked.

“I suppose so.”

“A man, operating under the Gallus house, clean shaven, short back and sides.” Bull described.

“And a women.” Varric added. “Dark skin, Rivaini. Low inhibitions, lower neckline.”

“I will look for them, but I can promise nothing, my duties must come first.”

“We understand.” Adaar replied with a smile, “One more thing, could you tell me about a man that might come here often, short dark hair shaved at the sides, moustache, handsome.”

“I-…” She began wide eyed before her face fell. The question had caught her off guard. “No, he has not been here, not for a long time.”

Adaar sighed as he watched her walk away. Shit, that didn’t sound good. “I’m going to sneak upstairs and see what’s going on.”

“You don’t think you’ll get found, hello you’re a qunari.” Asala commented.

“I snuck around the Winter Palace without getting found. Stole the Empresses’ unmentionables.”

“That’s a lie. Right? That’s just something that author shoved in that book.”

“ _That author_ is highly offended you don’t think that tale is based entirely on fact.” Varric said.

“You’re shitting me, _you_ wrote it?! You’re _that_ Varric. Well this trip just keeps getting better and better.” Asala joked.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourself,” Adaar interrupted. “But I’m off. Don’t expect me back for a while, or until something goes wrong.”

-

She’d never been to a noble’s party, never mind a _Magister’s,_ which Krem had told her, was several times worse than any noble she could imagine, even though he too had never been invited to one himself. She had to admit there was a small thrill that came with strolling to the home, a surprisingly large gathering considering its nature, evidently in full swing. Fashionably late and arriving amidst a crowd would mean they went unnoticed. Then again she wouldn’t be getting much attention anyway.

The outfit was… questionable. Whilst Krem was dressed in finery hers was considered the upper end of slavery wear, and she looked like a maid, if said maid had been dressed by a five year old with questionable fashion choices.

“May I take your coat sir?” An elderly elf asked the second they entered and it took Krem a moment to realise he was being spoken to, and then to deny the service.

“This is going to be a long night.” He murmured as he turned to Dalish.

“At least you don’t have to be a _slave.”_ She retorted, picking at the clothes.

Dalish saw the pirate approaching but evidently Krem did not, for when her hand tapped him on the shoulder, he spun far too quickly, composing himself only for his mask to be broken immediately as his eyes landed on the Rivaini, Isabela, she thought she recalled, smiling coyly with a drink outstretched. “You look like you could use one.”

“Vishante- What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?!” Krem swore.

“Charming.” She laughed, instead drinking the offered drink in two quick gulps. “I thought you could perhaps use the company.”

“But how did you get in here?” Dalish questioned.

“The same as you, I walked through the front door. Magisters.” She sighed. “Always think a bit of blood magic will keep them safe in the end.”

“Anything I should watch out for?” She asked and Krem sighed, thank god they handed sent him in alone.

“No sacrifices yet, the wines alright. The fashion this season appears to be extraordinarily short robes with low backs and I cannot unsee the horror. Oh, and have you seen the Magister with the lightning scars?”

“Scars? I thought they usually covered up that kind of thing, had it healed with magic.” Krem questioned.

“Me too, but he looks rather dashing, and rather terrifying, I’d steer away from him, he seems very out of place, hasn’t really spoken to anyone as far as I’m aware, but he hasn’t summoned a demon either.” She commented as she stole another two glasses from a passing serving girl, her outfit only slightly altered from the one that Dalish was sporting, and she rolled her eyes. “I’d imagine he’s one to watch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When they were left alone Krem turned to her, and asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

“It’s not the most comfortable outfit.” She complained.

“I mean… When Clemens said about Len…” Dalish frowned, she’d already had the same conversation with Skinner.

“They used to tell the len, the children,” She added, it wasn’t often she used elvhen around the Chargers, “Horror stories of how Tevinter would take you if you strayed too far from camp. My clan were lucky; we only had Templars to contend with. I wonder if she chose the name herself, if she was the len who strayed too far…”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, you never kidnapped anyone, you are not your countrymen… Now lets get this night out of the way.”

-

Bull rolled his eyes as Sera moaned for the third time in the two hours they’d been sat in the servants quarters elves and humans alike flitting around them. “This is shite this is. Why have we got to stay down here?”

“Because Magisters.” Was his simple answer, but it was enough to quiet Sera for at least a short moment before she began to grumble under her breath. Admittedly it was an improvement on the loud complaints she’d been making the rest of the evening.

“You could have waited at the-…” Varric began before falling short of a way to describe the building they were staying in.

“Shit hole of a brothel.” Asala supplied.

“You could have stayed in the shit hole of a brothel with the Chargers.” Varric stated. “You didn’t have to come on the mission that involved patiently waiting.”

“She’s returning.” Cole stated, and everyone suddenly sat straight, it was the first thing he’d said so far all evening.

Everyone watched as Len approached. “Hello. I have heard no suspicion, and I saw the Rivaini mingling with a few of the other guests, she did not appear distressed. Whatever your mission, it appears to be going well.”

-

Thus far Krem had largely avoided speaking with many of the Magisters milling about the room much to their advantage. Any who had approached him, questioning Gallus’ whereabouts, had been easily redirected with the prearranged response and they could only thank the chief as another Magister approached him and he gave the spiel. Dalish watching for all the things Krem could not, reaching out with her magic. Unfortunately however, being here as a slave meant she could not avoid the insults that were thrown her way, and she was only glad she also had Krem beside her, or the third Magister who had called her ‘rabbit’ would have walked away with singes on his stupid robes.

“Where is Gallus?” the woman asked in a voice that was pitched far lower than Dalish had been expecting from the pale blonde locks and gentle blue of her outfit. As a matter of fact, when Krem stood taller, looking slightly uncomfortable, she became distinctly aware of the differences in the woman before them, her chest flatter than her own, elves not known for ample chests, shoulders broad but still held high. This must be the Tilani they had spoken of. 

“Pellio apologises.” Krem stated with an unnecessary flourish. They’d helpfully learnt the man’s first name when the first Magister had approached him, asking his whereabouts. “He was an over ambitious fool and one of his spells went awry.”

“Will he be well?”

“I am merely taking his place for the evening, the healers say with time he should recover.”

“A shame.” The Magister mused and  Dalish couldn’t be certain whether the shame was for his injury or the fact he would recover, the sourness of her expression suggested the latter, but it soon dissipated into a smile. “So who am I in the company of?”

“A cousin, from Asariel.” Krem explained, their cover for his accent, in the hope that no one recognised it as something else. As he took the Magister’s hand in his own, pressing his lips against it lightly he declared, “Cremisius.”

“Maevaris.” She replied, retrieving her hand slowly with a coy smile.

“I have heard tales about you Magister Tilani.”

“However I have heard no tales of you, I assume you are Alti, Pellio holds the seat for your family. Yet I hear you have been parading a Magister’s seat all evening.”

He blanched for a moment before saying, “The Gallus seat is as good as mine. It would be a crying shame should Pellio not to recover as the healers predicted.”

She gave a short laugh. “Precisely the stance I would expect from a would-be Magister, you would do well in the Magisterium, Cremisius.”

“Thank you Magister.”

“Don’t take it as a compliment.” Before he had time to ask the meaning of her statement the smile returned to her features and she asked, “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“I certainly am. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Your companion certainly appears to be enjoying my home.”

“My companion?” He asked, turning to look at Dalish, who in turn swallowed uneasily, she hadn’t moved from the spot the entire evening and her legs were beginning to ache, then again, neither had Krem and she imagined he was in the same predicament.

“Not your slave dear. Your _companion_ , the Rivaini.”

“Ah, she- she has? I haven’t seen her all that much this evening.”

“Precisely. She has been enjoying my home, my servants quarters in particular.”

Krem swallowed away the lump in his throat. “Ah, women, you know how they are. You are one. I- I had a go at it. They do as they please.” He laughed nervously, and Dalish had to stop herself from knocking sense into him.

But the Magister’s face didn’t break from the slight smile. “Pellio and I had a long chat recently, about his brothers passing, killed by the Inquisition in Orlais as I recall, and how there was no one who could fill the Gallus seat but any heir he produced. Yet here _you_ are. A cousin with a birthright. Who _are_ you Cremisius?”

Shit. Dalish’s eyes widened as the Magister also turned to smile at her. Dalish immediately averted her eyes, scanning the room instead and as she did her eyes landed on a face that looked shockingly familiar for a brief moment, enough that it made her draw in a startled breath and grip Krem so hard he tensed and spat out, “I could ask you a very similar question. The Venatori?”

When the face turned it revealed lightning scars and an eye devoid of colour.

She deliberated for a moment before answering. “No. Now if you would excuse me a moment, I must mingle with my other guests.”

“Of course.” He replied.

As soon as Maevaris was out of ear shot he let out the breath he’d been holding, turning to Dalish hissing, “What the fuck was that?!”

She could see the confusion in the man’s features as they began to stride across the room.

“Krem we need to leave.”

“What why?!”

“The magister with the scars-…”

“Krem?” She heard the voice but didn’t turn to acknowledge it even though Krem’s head shot up to find the source of the voice.

“Servant’s quarters now!” The elf instructed.

-

“And so she said just put your fist in and-” Isabela stopped dead as Krem and Dalish burst through the door.

“The Magister with the scars,” Krem began, as Isabela jumped from the table. “He’s-”

It was too late the door behind them swung open.


	9. In Hushed Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face in the servant's quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! Sorry it took so long, but this chapter and the next are kind of a turning point, and with life getting in the way it took me a lot longer to complete than I would have liked.
> 
> I'm afraid for this chapter I can't tell you the viewpoint...

He descended the steps to the servants quarters slowly, trying his best not to make a sound on the stone steps. These interlopers to the party couldn’t know he was arriving. Grossly outnumbered his only advantage would be the element of surprise and his superior magical ability.

Could nobody have a normal party, one without deaths, secret agents, and double crossings? Of course they couldn’t. Perish the thought. After all would it not make his life incredibly dull? The wines and canapés were barely average, it was all hanging on the entertainment (Of course he could scarcely tell Mae that she’d have his head.) Even then he didn’t have high hopes for what she had planned, she never tended to push the boat for Teleta affairs. And so there he was, finding his own entertainment in the form of stalking possible spies. Spies that most probably worked in his favour.

Pausing briefly he listened intently, trying to grasp the subject of the quiet conversation. Alas, he could barely make out the voices, all speaking in hushed whispers, but he knew there were several of them, of course this could not have been orchestrated by the servants alone, they would need outside sources for intel and weapons. Before opening the door he pulled up the hood, best not they get a good look at him and report back to whomever. Taking a deep breath he readied himself, before flinging the door open, a fireball ready in hand.

The element of surprise, well, it was there, that was for sure, but he never imagined that he too would be caught up in it as he saw the great qunari -no, Tal-Vashoth, had been for years now- jump into a fighting position, battle-axe at the ready, a dwarf aiming a crossbow at him, and an elf (though he knew she didn’t appreciate being called that) drawing her bow, and another qunari, one he didn’t recognise had daggers readied. His mind battled within, please maker let him not be here, let him be safe in the south. But why is he not here? Did it get worse?

He was about to speak when a hand roughly gripped his neck, blade pressing lightly against his skin. The voice that spoke close to his ear was one he also did not recognise, “This is the one I told you about, he’s been snooping all evening.”

“ _I’ve-_ …” He began but he let the sentence trail when the dagger pressed sharper against his throat.

“Stop.” Came a voice that was more than familiar, the boy dropping down from a near-by bench. “He isn’t here to hurt; he was, but no more.”

“What do you mean kid?”

“He thought we were different, he didn’t know. Faces, familiar, and yet they don’t know mine. Have I changed that much? All here, but where- where is _he_? Surely not _here.”_

“Piss frigging… Shite!” Sera exclaimed. “Take off his hood. Look at him proper!”

The rogue that held him didn’t follow her instructions, merely loosening her grip, removing the dagger that dug into his throat. “You know him?”

“Yeah! Let him go! Real boy over here almost made sense for once.” As instructed he was released, even though everyone else looked on with apprehension. “Say some poncy shite. Do it.”

“Who is this?” The new qunari asked with confusion.

“Why, I don’t know how offended I should be?” The Bull’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. “Dorian, of the Inquisition, most recently of Minrathous. At your service. When I arrived at this soiree the last thing I anticipated was to be set upon by friends. Who, may I remind you are to the extent of my knowledge in Orlais.”

He pulled back his hood and of course it was Sera as considerate as ever who stopped in her dashing forward to greet him, and instead cried, “What happened to your _face?!_ You’re hairs all long, and… And your scars!” Sera exclaimed.

“Ah, of course the scars are the least of your worries. It was a minor accident.”

“That looks like a little more than a minor accident.” Varric argued. “It’s good to see you’re not dead… But what are you and Mae doing at a party for an evil cult?!”

“Haven’t you realised yet, we’re hosting it?”

“And that makes sense because…” Bull offered.

“You keep your friends close,” He began before being interrupted by Sera muttering ‘ _or on the other side of Thedas’._ “And for that I apologise, but you must keep your enemies closer. We know every Teleta member by name.”

“So this is Adaar’s Magister?” Fenris spat.

“ _Altus._ And I suppose from the lyrium markings that you’re the famed Fenris. Quite the party you have here, but why exactly are you in the Imperium?”

“We’re freeing slaves.” Varric answered.

“Is this something you do often?” Dorian asked in surprise, a laugh escaping from him.

“Not particularly.” The rogue that had been holding him at the tip of her dagger answered.

“Well then, as admirable as your cause may be, you picked an exceedingly bad time to visit the Imperium. I recommend Drakonis, the heat is pleasantly mild. ”

“And why is that exactly?”

“Well I believe it’s the air currents-…”

“You haven’t changed have you?” Bull asked with a smirk.

“Now I wouldn’t say that. As for your question, unfortunately the Magisterium made it very clear to me within months of my return that any plans I had for change would be shot down immediately, and never taken up for debate, my own favour and the newly rising Teleta had made sure of as much. They weren’t working together, but together they had successfully doomed me. All mention of the Inquisition is now heresy, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear Varric that all of your work is now considered illegal, and therefore in extremely high demand.”

“Another thing my publicist neglected to mention.” Varric grumbled.

“In all honesty I imagine they were merely trying to keep their head, have you truly not encountered it in the streets? Magisters quick to kill any elf or qunari with freewill. Any Liberati who steps into the upper district. There’s a revolution underway, and the Alti are becoming agitated.”

“And who’s leading them?”

“I wouldn’t like to call it leading. Merely giving them the means to retaliate.”

“You’re arming slaves?” Fenris asked. “And what do you think becomes of those that defy their masters?”

“Oh no, of course not, a slave found with a weapon would be killed, there would be a culling. But give them training so they could make use of a weapon when given the opportunity.”

“And you think slaves would agree to this? They’re too fond of their masters to turn against them.”

“If I may interrupt master Pavus?” A small voice asked, and they all turned to Len, wringing her hands.

“Please go ahead.”

“Fenris, I heard the name, but I didn’t dare hope. But the tattoos, the lyrium, you must be him. You’re the slave who escaped, you _killed_ your master.”

“So you’re feeding them false hope to strike up a rebellion.” He snarled.

“I fed them nothing!”

“Dorian, I mean, Master Pavus, he only told stories from the south after the little ones begged for them, but some of the older ones, they… They saw hope, runaway slaves, the Temple of Mythal, Heralds of Andraste. Many would have run to join the inquisition had they the ability. They fed themselves hope. It was only a matter of time.”

“So… Let me get this straight.” Sera began. “You’ve got an army, of like, slaves and elves and stuff.”

“Not precisely.” He answered at the exact same moment Len straightened her back and proclaimed “Yes.”

Sera looked between them for a moment, before her lips split in a grin and she hissed, “Nice.”

“That’s not precisely the case. But, it is certainly-…”

“Dorian?!”

The voice felt like ice down his spine. He had hoped perhaps he had jobs too important to chance a venture to the Imperium, but of course not. This was the same man he knew; it had never been a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’. But Josephine’s letters, he had been sick, getting worse with every correspondence.

Dorian turned slowly, his eye falling on the familiar form in the door of the serving quarters, watching as the smile pulled down into something akin to shock.

“Amatus?” His feet shifted forward and Kadan matched his step, closing the gap between them. “You were sick.”

“I got better.” He stated simply, his smile returning even as Dorian’s brow creased.

“So you came to the Imperium?! What were you thinking?! You knew how dangerous it was, I told you repeatedly not to come!”

“I couldn’t wait anymore, not knowing if you were safe. Clearly you’re not!” He said gesturing to Dorian’s face, causing the Altus to roll his eyes.

“So you came here?! You brought everyone? It was a foolish mistake!”

“I thought you would at least be slightly pleased to see me!”

Dorian paused for a moment, “Of- of course I am. I’ve missed you immeasurably.”

Kadan smiled, “I’ve missed you too.”

Dorian wasn’t sure who moved first, it seemed to be a joint decision as he flung his arms around Kadan’s neck, arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer and their lips crushing together. Someone whistled behind them and Dorian felt Kadan laugh against him, all of the anger flooding from his veins. It had been too long, too long since he’d felt this body beneath his fingers.

Even when he pulled back he could not bear to separate, and so he remained with his arms wrapped firmly around his amatus, craning his neck so that their foreheads still pressed together.

“Maker I’ve missed you.” Kadan hummed, and Dorian smiled, trying to move closer to his lover.

Eventually they were interrupted and made very aware that they were not alone in the room, not in the slightest. Dorian turned as little as he could, still grasping onto Kadan as he acknowledged the quiet cough that had disturbed them.

“Master Pavus.” Len announced. “Sorry to interrupt, but I believe there is somewhere you need to be.”

“Ah, yes.” Dorian suddenly remembered. As the elf bowed her head and scurried away he called back, “Thank you, Len.”

“You have to return to the party?” Kadan asked, and the sorrow in his voice made Dorian’s heart ache. He wanted to be so damned selfish and never let go.

“Actually there is somewhere far more pressing I need to be. And I suggest you come with me.”


	10. The Midnight Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit late and a few references to A Magister's Birthright, in the form of more familiar faces.

**Dorian & Skinner**

“We’re heading for lower Qarinus.” Dorian announced and Adaar followed. “And pull up your hood, even though I doubt it will do much good…”

He had never been more thankful for Mae living on the outskirts of the upper district as they twisted through the lower streets, even though those with more power tended to live closer to the senate at the centre of the district, she’d always preferred the estates further out. The further they travelled the more the streets began to wind with no real semblance of a design, the cobbles beneath their feet becoming loose and crooked, until they finally stopped before a rather non-descript building. Dorian knocked on the door twice and it opened slightly with a creak.

A quiet voice hissed “Password.”

“Password?” Dorian asked in surprise.

“You have to say the password.”

“Since when have we had a password? Let me in.”

“I can’t let you in if you don’t say it, you could be anyone.”

“Rotrand?!” Dorian hissed, almost certain it was the dwarf. “I swear to the Maker, or the Stone, or whatever you believe in, you know exactly who this is, now open this bloody door before someone sees.”

Rotrand grumbled, “Alright keep your hair on!”

Creaking all of the way open the light illuminated the round dwarf almost filling the width of the porch. When Dorian had shifted around him into the main room he immediately noticed the table had shifted, an evident divide down the middle with Trevelyan sat at the head, a group all of his own. Dorian ran a hand down his face, before removing his hood.

“What happened this time?” He asked, tossing his cloak aside.

“Adrianus is a dick! That’s what!” The female carta dwarf cried, gesturing to the Templar across the table.

“And Igrid is a soft touch who doesn’t understand every slave can’t go running through the fields safe and free. There will be casualties.”

“But as few as few as possible would be nice!” Avis argued, the Liberati elf raising their arms in anger.

“There’s no hope-” Adrianus began.

“No!” Everyone at the table screamed, Dorian included as half of them launched at the Templar, the other half throwing themselves at Maxwell, but it was too late, already his eyes had glowed orange, and quickly everyone in the room calmed, resuming their seats as if nothing had happened.

“Okay,” Kadan finally said, removing his hood, stepping completely into the room, “So what the fuck was that?”

“Maxwell is joined with a spirit of hope.” Dorian explained quickly. “Adrianus is very good it bringing it out.”

At the mention of his name the forcibly serene Templar turned, his eyes falling on Kadan, before widening. In a second the peace was broken and he was jumping from his seat screaming, sword unsheathed and held outwards, “That’s a fucking qunari!”

“Excellent observation skills!” Kadan countered, before muttering. “I thought I was past the days of Templars pointing swords at me.”

 “At least this one isn’t imbued with red lyrium.” Dorian stated, before turning to the Templar. “We had no qunari representative, and there are Tal-Vashoth living and slaving away in the city, so for now meet Kadan. He’s extremely important, I’d be grateful if you didn’t run him through.”

“Are you not going to introduce the rest of us?” Avis asked.

“Yes, let’s get that out of the way, I believe you’ve already met a few.” Dorian began. “The Templar that never shuts up is Adrianus Lucci. You have met our representative for the slaves of the city Len Lavellan.” She waved. “And I have reason to believe you are also acquainted with our surface dwarf representative Igrid Cadash.”

“Aye!” The dwarf enthused. “He’s making use of my establishment!”

“He- He is..?” Dorian asked uncertainly.

“We’re staying in her spare rooms.” Kadan corrected much to Dorian’s relief. Of course they had agreed they could see other people, it had been a long time, he expected it, but a small part of him still hoped.

“Ah, well the dwarf who greeted us is Rotrand Valac, merchant’s guild. The other elf is Avis, Liberati. And the female human at the table is our resident Soporati Fulvia Hortensus, she… Doesn’t say much. Fulvia and Avis both work down in the docks; they keep an eye on our shipments. Of course you know Maxwell, or Magister Trevelyan.”

“Magister?!” Kadan asked in surprise.

“Magister.” Maxwell answered, thankfully the glowing had stopped.

“How did that come about? And the spirit for that matter?”

“Apparently if you save the Archon you’re able to call in a few favours, and the Trevelyan’s still have a few ties to the Imperium. It was all rather simple.”

“Everyone knows Mae stood against the Venatori with the Inquisition but they just think I’m incompetent, it’s a good cover and I can spy on activity on the inside.” Max explained.

“And he’s about the only Magister the slaves will tolerate.” Len laughed.

“The spirit was at the battle against Corypheus, the second one.” Max added as an afterthought.

“The second?” Adaar asked.

“You forget Max is from an alternate timeline.” Dorian stated, before the room settled into silence.

“And do I not get an introduction?” He laughed, and Dorian wished he’d just bundled him with the rest.

“And this is our resident Laetan… Rilienus Verinus.” Dorian held his breath, hoping that perhaps Adaar had forgotten the significance of the name. It had been years since Cole had mentioned it, and Kadan had never breached the subject again.

The way the qunari asked, “Rilienus?” However, suggested that he very much remembered the name.

“So why did you drag a Qunari into the meeting?” Adrianus demanded, and for once Dorian was thankful of the Templar’s brash interruptions.

“Because, I’ve already told you we needed a representative. As for Kadan, well, I thought you might be interested to meet him, that’s all… Show them.” He added, looking down at the gloves that covered his lover’s hands.

“Are you sure?” Dorian nodded.

With that he removed his left glove slowly, revealing the glowing green light, which cast a silence over the group. Igrid spoke first, “Are you- Are you really him?”

“Yes.”

“Well shit. I put you in the shitty rooms at the back of the inn, if I’d have known I’d have sent you uptown, not made you squat in my shithole.” She rambled.

“Don’t worry about it.” Kadan ensured. “We’re rather hoping to keep a low profile.”

“So- You are him?” Len asked quietly. “You are the Herald of Andraste?”

“That’s one of the things they call me.”

“And you’ve come to help us?” She asked with hope.

“I- I suppose I’ll offer whatever help I can.”

“Adaar has his own issues to deal with; he doesn’t need to be worrying about an uprising when-” Dorian began to argue.

“Woah.” Kadan cut in. “An uprising?! What exactly do you mean by ‘uprising’?”

“We mean rebelling against the Magisterium and showing them they can’t throw us to the ground any longer.” Avis answered.

“And all of those slave uprisings that nobodies heard about because everyone involved are now dead, what about them? Shouldn’t you be taking them as a cautionary tale?”

“We have what they didn’t.” Len insisted.

“And what is that exactly?” He asked before muttering loud enough that Dorian was sure he was the only one able to make out the words. “Please for the love of the Maker don’t say ‘the herald of the Andraste’.”

Dorian was about to quell his fears, to ensure him that this was not another matter hoping resting on his shoulders, but before he could speak Rotrand cut in, “Well it ain’t just a slave uprising! It’s a full blown rebellion.”

Avis continued, “Everyone’s working against them, the slaves of course, and the Liberati they let go, the Soporati, and Laetans too. But the Templars, some of the Ambassadoria, surface dwarves, even some of the Altus are standing against them in secret. They’re outnumbered.”

“But not quite overpowered.” Dorian added sadly. “The Teleta are all elite Alti, trained at circles, however, many of the Lucerni are untrained lower classes, our aim is to give them the power they need.”

“I was an archer.” Len said, before quickly rushing. “Oh, terribly sorry for butting in Master Dorian were you finished?”

“If you have something of value to say, then say it.” He insisted.

“Before they took me from my clan I was an archer, I’ve been teaching some of the slaves, there are many city elves amongst us from the south too, together we can train a household, and if a slave gets sold on, or if they bump into someone at the markets they can pass on the message, there is rebellion.”

“Clemens, is he in on it?” Kadan asked. “A few of my people told me he helped them.”

Avis and Len both laughed, Avis muttering, “Fucking Clem. Yeah, he’s a guy you can trust.”

“So you have people everywhere?”

“It took a while to change minds but in the end, we did.” Dorian answered. “There needs to be change, and the Magisterium made it very clear that change will not come from them, so it must come from us.”

“All noble aspirations,” Adrianus cut in, and Avis groaned so loudly he had to pause for a moment. “But now that we have the inquisitor amongst us, perhaps we can deal with the more pressing issue.”

“Rifts didn’t get as high as Tevinter!” Igrid argued.

“Rifts?” Adaar asked cautiously, “They’re all gone. I’ve been travelling for the past years closing them all.”

“Well then you missed one.” Adrianus argued.

“But the rifts barely reached Nevarra, there were two on the border, there’s no way they could reach Tevinter.”

“You can all keep saying that as much as you like but I know what I saw. Right there in the middle of the Porenni estate.”

“You never did explain _why_ you were in the Porenni estate to begin with.” Rilienus stated.

“We’d been called over for unlawful use of magic, but in the end the guy appeared to be clean, we couldn’t take him in without evidence.” The Templar sighed, and it was one of those statements that made Dorian remember why Adrianus had signed on in the first place.

“We can investigate the estate when and if there is an opening. Otherwise I can’t imagine Porenni would allow a demon spitting crack in the veil to remain in his home.” Dorian said, if only to quieten the Templar for now. “As for the typically important matter what I learned this evening, the answer is absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing?!” Rotrand blustered. “Surely the Teleta must be planning _something_?”

“Well if they are, they weren’t planning it this evening.”

“So what?!” Avis cried. “We’re back to waiting for them to make a move, to reveal something, whilst we’re all down in the slums pretending nothing’s happening?!”

“Unfortunately so.” Dorian answered. “For now we’ll look into the Porenni’s to sate Adrianus, but until there is in an opening, I’m afraid there is nothing we can do.”

-

The chargers, or what was left of them, had broken out cards, and Skinner was gradually losing patience with Grim’s poker face. It was due to her distracted attention that she heard the steps ascending the stairs, seconds before a shem threw the door open.

“I’m looking for Isabela.” The woman announced, eyes darting over every one of the chargers.

Oh, Skinner did not like this one, over the top robes, staff at her back, face twisted in condescension. “She’s not here _shem.”_

Stitches put a steadying hand on her arm and pulled her down to her seat proper. “Can we take a message for when she returns? Your name?”

“For now you can call me ‘C’, just like in the letters.” Carefully she pulled a letter from a pocket hidden in her robes. “These are the details. You can tell Isabela the target is the Porenni estate.”

A gap tooted grin split her lips as she turned form the room and called behind her, “I look forward to doing business with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note in A Magister's Birthright, Kadan sided with the mages, meaning that the Inquisition thought Samson and the Templars.

**Author's Note:**

> For fairly regular updates, I never seem to shut up about this thing, and other Dragon Age stuff, [you can follow me on Tumblr!](http://sjinsbutt.tumblr.com)


End file.
